There came an exclamation from Herbert; but he spoke no words.
“When I threatened to strike you from my will,” continued the old Tory, “I did it through motives of pride. I wanted to show my friends how strong the family character was; I desired to convince them as to its ruggedness and firmness and truth. I said to you in the presence of all: ‘Give up your principles or give up my money.’ I expected to see you throw the insult back into my teeth—uncle and all as I was. But you shamed me, you caused my pride to fall in ruins about me. You took me at my word. You traded your honor for money.”
“Uncle!” George heard a scraping of feet which told him that Herbert Camp had sprung up; and there was a ring in his voice that thrilled. “Do you mean to say that you’d have been better pleased had I held to the American cause?”
“I do. Strange as it may seem, I do say it. You would have shown that you were honest and steadfast, even though I thought you wrong. As it is——”
He did not complete the sentence and for a space nothing more was said. Then Herbert spoke once more.
“Suppose,” said he, “suppose that I should tell you that I had not been false to my principles?”
“Do you mean this?” And the old man’s voice rang sharply.
“I do.”
“So then,” and there was bitter anger in the tones, “you pretended. You tried to humbug me. You were willing to stoop to a mean deception in order that you might retain my good will?”
“Uncle!”