“No doubt you are right,” returned Usher. “The sacred principles of morality ought to be upheld at any cost. I have always upheld morality. What do you think, Matthew?” The old man looked steadily at his finger nails and replied in a dispassionate voice,—
“One never knows what lies behind.” Sylvester rose and shrugged his shoulders.
“Wantonness and baseness lie behind. I have no patience with misplaced sympathy in such cases. Here is this woman you are reading about,—she betrayed her husband, deserted her children. She deserves no pity.”
Usher waggled his head indulgently.
“I am a Christian man,” he said, “and I have a tender heart. I have always had a tender heart, Matthew.”
Sylvester laughed and threw the end of his cigar into the fire. He was half ashamed of having been betrayed into a display of deep feeling before one whom he considered a shallow egotist.
“Well, I haven't,” he said. “I'm going up to the drawing-room. Perhaps you'll join me.”
He nodded to his father and left the room. Matthew edged his chair further from the fire, and wiped his lips and brow with his handkerchief.
“You are getting too warm,” said Usher.
“The room is hot. When you have finished your wine, we may as well follow Sylvester.”