Beecham partly understood that slight movement of the head, and his voice had become soft again when he resumed:
‘I did not seek to retaliate. She was lost to me, and it did not much matter what evil influence came between us. I am not seeking to retaliate now. I would have forgotten the man and the evil he had wrought, if it had not been for the cry my sister sent to me from her deathbed. She asked me for some sign that in the future I would try to help and guide her favourite child, Philip. I gave the pledge, and she was only able to answer that I had made her happy. I am here to fulfil that pledge, and it might have been easily done, but for you.’
‘For me!’—Startled, but not looking at him yet.
‘Ay, for you, because I wish to be sure that you will be safe in his keeping; and to be sure of that, I wish him to prove that he has none of his father’s nature in him.’
‘Do you still hate his father so much?’ she said distressfully.
‘I have long ceased to feel hatred; but I still distrust him and all that belongs to him. Now that you know why I stand aside to watch how Philip bears himself, do you still ask me to release you from your promise?’
‘I will not betray your confidence,’ she answered mechanically; ‘but what I ought to do I will do.’
‘I would not desire you to do anything else, my child,’ and all his gentleness of manner had returned. ‘I will not ask you to say at this moment whether or not you think I am acting rightly. I ask only that you will remember whose child you are, and what she was to me, as you have learned what I was to her. Then you will understand and judge me.’
‘I cannot judge, but I will try to understand.’
Then she turned towards him, and he saw that although she had been speaking so quietly, her pain had been great.