"No, John is perfectly well, and I am amazed at what you have told me, Mr. Young," Helen observed, with tremulous lips, her composure sadly shaken.
The man arose, an ominous gleam in his eyes.
"Well, then, you can tell him from me that he need not show up at the office again," he coldly observed, at the same time laying an envelope on the table before Helen. "Here is his pay up to the end of the month. He hasn't earned it, but it's what I agreed to give him, and I'm a man of my word. I hoped," he continued, less sharply, after a momentary pause, during which his glance fell upon his companion's colorless face, "when he came to me for a position he had given up his nonsense about art, and had made up his mind to settle down to something worth while, and I meant to do well by him—take him in with me, by and by, perhaps, if he showed any backbone or interest in the business; but it is evident that he cares more for his own ease and pleasure than for anything else, and—I'm through with him."
Helen's heart sank within her. She dare not think what might be the consequences if John lost his position just at this time. It would leave him with no responsibility, and with nothing to do but to dance attendance upon Marie Duncan.
She felt it would mean utter ruin for their domestic happiness. He might not mend his ways even if his uncle retained him in his service, since his infatuation for the actress had become so strong; but it would at least be something to hold him from spending all his time with her. To be suddenly cut off like this seemed like the parting asunder of the cable that held their only anchor of hope, thus leaving them drifting helplessly upon a treacherous sea.
"Oh, pray do not say that, Mr. Young!" she pleaded, with whitening lips. "John needs to be encouraged, to be held by some responsibility. Will you not kindly give him another trial?"
"No, I have borne all I shall from him," gruffly replied Nathan Young, but shifting uneasily under the look in her imploring eyes. "John has no sense of responsibility, no idea of duty in connection with himself or any one else. His only thought is to drift comfortably with the current; when there is any rowing to be done he thrusts it upon some one else every time. I've been studying him ever since he came to me, and I know. He will never be 'held,' as you put it, except by his own will—at least, until he has had some lesson in life that will make a stronger impression upon him than any he has had yet. There, I've had my say! It has taken me longer to make up my mind to this, perhaps, than you have any idea, for he was my sister's boy, and I owed her something; but when I finally come to a decision about anything the matter is settled. I am sorry for you, though, Mrs. Hungerford—upon my word, I am. I don't believe it has been easy navigating for you, in spite of the brave front you show to the world," he concluded, with a touch of honest sympathy, while he wondered if she had any suspicion of how or where her husband was spending the most of his time.
He had been investigating the movements of his recreant nephew of late, and he had learned that his companions and pursuits were not at all to his credit.
Helen stood cold and haughty before him. She was stung to the quick by the man's harsh arraignment and curt dismissal of her husband; yet she knew, in her heart, that he was justified in both. At the same time, John was her husband, and the father of her child, and she was bound to defend him—to be loyal to him as long as defense and loyalty were possible.
She saw that it was useless to expect any concession from Mr. Young, that it would be a waste of time and energy to argue with him. So she braced herself to meet the inevitable with what composure she could command, and observed, with an air of quiet dignity: