"You'll know its meaning some day, my son," was the even reply that came after a pause, "and I only demand of you one thing——"
He laid his hand on the boy's shoulder:
"That the woman you ask to be your wife bear a name without shadow. Good blood is the noblest inheritance that any father or mother ever gave to a child."
"I'm proud of mine, sir!" the boy said, drawing his form erect.
The father's arm stole around the young shoulders and his voice was very low:
"Fools sometimes say, my son, that a man can sow his wild oats and be all the better for it. It's a lie. The smallest deed takes hold on eternity for it may start a train of events that even God can't stop——"
He paused and fought back a cry from the depths of his soul.
"I did something that hurt your mother once"—his voice dropped—"and for twenty years my soul in anguish has begged for forgiveness——"
The boy looked at him in startled sympathy and his own arm instinctively slipped around his father's form as he lifted his face to the shining figure over the mantel:
"But you believe that she sees and understands now?"