"You have had too much pleasure and luxury, Lans; things have come too easily. You have never been brought face to face with a longing, and been made to understand that sacrifice, on your part, was necessary to obtain it. Unless you have felt so, you are in no position to find yourself, as you put it."
Again the vital silence.
"How do you know whether you want a college education or not? How do you know you are worthy of this great privilege? You may not even be fitted for it by nature."
Had Markham asked if his nephew knew whether he would ever want to eat a meal again, the boy could not have been more surprised. College, to him and his set, was as natural a sequence as dessert after the courses preceding it. For the life of him Lansing could not prevent a stare. His aunt had left him utterly unprepared for this.
"Now this is my proposition:" Markham had his elbows on his desk, his chin resting on the points of his clasped hands; "I will take you into the mills on exactly the same terms as I would any other young fellow—except that you will share my home—until you learn the rudiments of the business and discover whether you have any business sense or not. By the time you have mastered that and experienced some bodily labour, you will be in a position where you can choose, to some degree, your career. Should you, then, wish to enter college, I will permit you to select one, and I will see you through. It is my firm belief that between a preparatory school and college there should be a space of time, except in particular cases, for looking backward and forward—a breathing time; a time for relaxation and the acquiring of fixed aims. College should not be passed out to a boy as a plum or a luxury—it's too grave a matter for that. All my life I have deplored the lack of it—but I had to live and suffer before I realized its importance."
With all his honesty Lansing Hertford was trying at this critical time to get his uncle's point of view. Of one thing alone was he sure—he was, he believed, so far ahead of his uncle in his knowledge of life that the old gentleman seemed but a blurred speck on the social horizon. No longer could he be looked to as a safe adviser. Why, left to himself, the man might sacrifice the family name and prestige! He did not even understand the decent conventions due his own standing in the community! Suddenly Lansing Hertford felt old and anxious as though upon him, instead of Levi, rested the responsibility of the future. He tried to frame a reply that might enlighten and not insult, but it was difficult. At last he spoke.
"Uncle Levi, I cannot see what such effort and success as yours amount to if they do not place the next generation higher. What you say you have deplored in your own life should prove to you what I ought to have. Your experience counts for so much, you know. I expect to work, and work hard—I always have worked hard. I'm two years ahead of most fellows of my age. But I want to start from where you and my Aunt Olive leave off, I want to mingle with my kind—I am all but qualified to enter Yale—I could not go—back!"
"Your kind! Go back!" Levi's eyes flashed under his shaggy brows. "What is your kind? Have you ever mingled with those above or below you? And as to going back—is it degrading to place yourself in a position from which you can accept or decline a great opportunity intelligently? I was forced to learn my lesson in a hard school; you can still learn the lesson even with the limitations of luxury. Your 'kind' is good, bad, and indifferent, and there are other kinds. I see you before me, young and hopeful—but ignorant and blind. I want to open every avenue to you that leads to successful manhood. You are losing nothing by my plan; you are gaining much." Something very pleading rang in Markham's voice, but Lansing was deaf to it.
"Uncle Levi—I cannot! I'd be a disappointment to you if I tried. I've got to go on with the fellows. I'd lose more than you know if I broke away now and—and buried myself in the mill, and then tried later to pick up. You've never been through what I have—the break would be the end of me! You'd know it when it was too late. I mean to try to be the best of my kind, indeed I do—but the fellow I am is the result of my training and it means everything to me."
What Levi Markham saw before him now was the son of Lansing Hertford—all resemblance to the mother was gone. Baffled and defeated by a something invincible and beyond his understanding, the old man faced the calmness of the young fellow in the chair across the desk. When he spoke he addressed a Hertford only.