The artful dissembler applied his handkerchief to his eyes, possibly to hide the gleam of joyful anticipation which he could with difficulty conceal.
“Yes, Lewis,” said Mr. Rand, affected by his nephew’s apparent emotion; “you have indeed been devoted to me. You will find, after my death, that I have not been ungrateful. Your affection leads you to wish my life prolonged, but when the tongue falters, and the pulse grows weak, and the throbbing heart is almost still, man should not presumptuously strive to call back the gift which God is about to take away.”
“My dear uncle, I am convinced that you are unnecessarily alarmed. You will yet live many years.”
“Hope it not, Lewis,” said the sick man, who was far from suspecting how unnecessary this admonition was; “hope it not. I know my time is short. At such a time, Lewis, our past actions assume a very different aspect from that in which we have been wont to regard them. Now when it is too late, I can see how by my foolish pride, I have wrecked my own happiness, and perhaps—God forgive me—that of him I loved best in life, my son Robert.”
Lewis was uneasy at the turn the conversation was taking, and made an effort to divert it.
“I think, sir,” he said, “that you are blaming yourself without adequate cause. Much as I loved my cousin, I am forced to acknowledge that he justly forfeited his claims to your favor and affection.”
“Forfeited my affection! And shall we, weak, erring mortals, in our presumption dare to affix such a penalty to what may after all be only an offence against our own unworthy pride? I feel that I was wrong. I should not have condemned Robert’s choice without having seen his wife, and if she was really worthy, I should have given my consent.”
“But, consider her birth.”
“When you come to lie on your death-bed as I do now,” said the sick man, solemnly, “such considerations will dwindle into their proper insignificance. Why should I claim superiority over any being whom the same kind Father has made? When death is near us, our vision becomes clearer. The scales of prejudice are rent away, and we see things as they are.”
Lewis was silent. He was seeking some way of diverting the conversation into a less dangerous channel.