“I am not grateful for failure; I find that day by day I am taking more account of success, no matter what its kind; and but for you, Virginia, I might have been a happy man just as I have been a successful man; though after all success is easier won than happiness. You will want to know what I will promise on behalf of the boy, and it's quite right you should—”
“I have heard enough,” she said, but he went on unheeding her.
“You must remember that aside from Gibbs's wife, the boy is nearer me than any one else, and that I am a rich man; yet you are to understand that what I may do for him will be much or little as he proves himself worthy or unworthy. But he shall have every advantage that money will give. You are ambitious for him; he shall have a profession and a free and unhampered start in life. Can you do as much for him?”
“You know I cannot,” she said. “Why do you tempt me? Of course I am ambitious for him.”
“Then let me gratify you; I do not mean that you are to be entirely separated from him; but until he goes away to school I wish him to be an inmate of my house. This is not an unfair demand; you could hardly expect that I would ask less.”
“But how do I know how you will treat him?” asked Virginia.
“You can learn from the boy himself,” answered Benson smiling. “I did not suppose that you think me capable of unkindness or brutality,” he added with quiet sarcasm.
“He will be lonely.”
“Most likely,” said Benson composedly. “Understand, Virginia, if you prefer to be alone responsible for his future, I have no desire to interfere in your plans, though Stephen's letter gives me a definite claim; but I shall never urge this claim, it is simply that I do not believe in a divided authority; and I beg you to remember what Stephen's life was.”
“You must not speak of that to me, I could have saved him had I known!”