But another hand was reached forth also, and grasped the young man’s extended wrist with a vehement grip.
“No, by God! you won’t!” swore the General, his face purpling with the rush of angry blood, and his little gray eyes flashing. “No, sir, you won’t!” he repeated; and then, bending a momentary glance upon the boy, he snapped out: “Well, you! don’t stand staring here! Go and do your errand as you were told!”
The office-boy started with a run to obey his command, and did not slacken his pace until he had turned a corner. He had never encountered a real general in action before, and the experience impressed him.
Father and son looked in silence into each other’s faces for an instant. Then the father said, with something between a curse and a groan:
“My God! the girl was right! You are a damned scoundrel!”
“Well, however that may be,” replied Horace, frowning, “I’m not in the mood just now to take any cheek, least of all from you!”
As the General stared at him with swelling rage in his fat face, and quivering, inarticulate lips, his son went on in a bitter voice, from between clinched teeth:
“I owe this to you! to nobody else but you! Everything I did was done to lift you out of the gutter, to try and make a man of you again, to put you back into decent society—to have the name of Boyce something else once more besides a butt for bar-keepers and factory-girls. I had you around my neck like a mill-stone, and you’ve pulled me down. I hope you’re satisfied!”
For a moment it seemed as if the General would fall. His thick neck grew scarlet, his eyes turned opaque and filled with tears, and he trembled and almost tottered on his legs. Then the fit passed as suddenly as it had come. He threw a sweeping glance up and down the figure of his son—taking in the elegant line of the trousers, the costly fur, the delicate, spotless gloves, the white jewelled neckwear, the shining hat, the hardened and angry face beneath it—and then broke boisterously forth into a loud guffaw of contemptuous laughter.
When he had laughed his fill, he turned upon his heel without a word and walked away, carrying himself with proud erectness, and thumping his umbrella on the sidewalk with each step as he went.