Archie’s unconsciousness was almost foolish, as he stood there with the thing in his hand. Evelyn, trembling from head to foot in her own impatience and anxiety, could scarcely bear it. “Oh speak, speak!” she cried under her breath.
“Own to what?” the boy said. “A place of repentance—for what?” His consternation and amazement were clear enough; only to his father they seemed the deepest deceit.
“Down upon your knees!” he cried, springing to his feet. “Do you know what that means?—not mere cheating of your father, which perhaps was all you thought of; it means the ruin of your whole life; it means penal servitude—a little while ago it meant death. Go down on your knees and ask my pardon. I will never trust you again, nor will I ever have a happy moment, knowing what you are; but I will forgive you, as far as the world is concerned, and hide your shame.”
Evelyn, whom her husband had thrown off in his hurried movement, stood wringing her hands, her tears dropping upon them, her countenance convulsed with terror and pity. “Oh speak to him, Archie, tell him, tell him!” she said.
Then the poor young fellow came fully to life, though even now he did not quite understand what it was he was accused of. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said; “for there is nothing in the world that can mean penal servitude to me. You are mad, I think, father. I have done nothing to ruin my life—Me! what could I have done—what has been in my power? If I were as bad in nature as you think me—what, what has been in my power?”
“Archie,” said Rowland, recovering his composure by a great effort; “I want no useless talk. Let’s understand all that as said. Self-defence is out of the question. If you will tell me as humbly as you can what led you to such a crime as forgery, perhaps—God forgive you, I’ll try to think the best—thinking less of it because it was your father——”
“Forgery!” cried Archie with a great shout, as if to earth and heaven.
“You need not proclaim your shame and mine—Forgery. What is the money to me? I would rather than ten thousand pounds, than all I have in the world, that you had come to me and told me—oh, any story you pleased—if it were gambling, if it were some wretched woman—whatever it was. Man,” cried the father in his anguish, “you are my only son. It was my fault, perhaps, that I was disappointed in you. But if you had come to me and said, ‘I have been a fool, I have need of a thousand pounds to clear me of my folly,’—do you think I would have refused? I might have been angry then—not knowing what was in store—but if I know myself, I would not have been hard upon you. I would have thought you were but young—I would have felt you were like your mother. God forgive you, boy, you’re like your mother there where you stand, a felon, a criminal, subject to the law. And my only son, my only son!”
He turned away with a loud sob, that came from his heart like the report of a pistol, and throwing himself in his chair, covered his face with his hands.
“A felon and a criminal,” said Archie, in his turn half mad with passion, and having made a dozen efforts to break in. “Oh, I knew you hated me; but I never thought it would go so far.—— Me a felon—me subject to the law! It’s just a damned cursed lie!” cried the boy, tears of rage in his eyes. “Ay! I never swore in my life, but I’ll swear now. It’s a damned lie! It’s a cursed lie! Oh, publish it to the whole world, if you like; what do I care? it’s all over between you and me. You may call me your son if you like, but no more will I call you father. Oh, get a trumpet and tell it all over the world, and see if one will believe you that ever knew Archie Rowland. Shame!” cried the lad; “father! do you not think shame to say it? do you not think shame?”