The Eyes of the World

by Harold Bell Wright

"In God's name, Lagrange, why did not some one tell me? I did not know--I did not know--I thought--O mother, mother, mother--why did you do it? Why was I not told? All these years I have lived a selfish fool, and you--you--I would have given up everything--I would have worked in a ditch, rather than accept this."

The deep, quiet voice of Conrad Lagrange broke the stillness that followed the storm of the artist's passionate words. "And that is the answer, Aaron. She knew, too well, that you would not have accepted her sacrifice, if you had known. That is why she kept the secret until you had finished your education. She forbade her friends--she forbade me to interfere. And don't you see that she was right? Don't you see it? We would have done her the greatest injustice if we had, against her will, deprived her of this privilege. Her splendid pride, her high sense of honor, her nobility of spirit demanded the sacrifice. It was her right. God forgive me--I tried to make her see it otherwise--but she knew best. She always knew best, Aaron. Her only hope of regaining for you that self-respect and that position in life to which you--by right of birth and natural endowment--are entitled, was in you. The name which she had given to you could be restored to honor by you only. To train and equip you for your work, and to enable you, unhampered by need, to gain your footing, was the determined passion of her life. Her sacrifice, her suffering to that end, was the only restitution she could make to you for that which your father had squandered. Her proud spirit, her fine intelligence, her mother love for you, demanded it."

"I know," returned the artist. "She told me before she died. She made me understand. She said that it was my inheritance. She asked for my promise that I would be true to her purpose. Her last words were an expression of her confidence that I would not disappoint her--that I would win a place and name that would wipe out the shame of my father's dishonor. And I will, Lagrange, I must. Mother--mother shall not be disappointed--she shall not be disappointed."

"No,"--said the older man, so softly that the other, torn by the passion of his own thoughts, did not hear,--"No, Aaron, your mother will not be disappointed."

For a time longer they sat in silence. Then the young man said, "I wish I knew the name of my mother's friend--the one who suffered the heaviest loss through my father, and who so generously protected her in the crisis. I would like to thank him, at least. I begged her to tell me, but she would not. She said he would not want me to know--that for me to attempt to reimburse him would, to his mind, rob him of his real reward."

Conrad Lagrange, his head bowed, spoke quietly to the dog at his feet. Rising, Czar laid his soft muzzle on his master's knee and looked up into the homely, world-worn face. Gently, the strange man--so lonely and embittered in the fame that he had won--at a price--stroked the brown head. "Your mother knew best, Aaron," he said slowly, without looking at his companion. "You must believe that she knew best. Her beautiful spirit could not lead her astray. She was right in this, also. Your sentiment does you honor, but you must respect her wish. Whoever the man was--she had reasons, I am sure, for feeling as she did--that it would be better for you not to know. It was some one, perhaps, whose influence upon you, she had cause to fear."

"It was very strange," returned the artist, hesitatingly. "Perhaps I ought not to say it. But I felt that, as you suggest, she feared for me to know. She seemed to want to tell me, but did not, for my sake. It was very strange."

Conrad Lagrange made no reply.

"I wanted you to know about mother,"--continued the artist,--"because I would like you to understand why--why I must succeed in my work."

The older man smiled to himself, in the dusk. "I have always known why you must succeed, Aaron," he returned. "I have never questioned your motives. I question only your understanding of success. I question--if you will pardon me--your understanding of your mother's wish for you."