Usher poured out another glass.
“I am very comfortable,” he said. “I always am here. You must be proud to have a son with such sentiments as Sylvester.”
Matthew rose abruptly from his seat, clenched his hands by his side, and bit a quivering lip. Evidently he was mastering something.
“Drink your wine and come upstairs,” he said.
The other looked at him askance and hesitated. Then yielding, as it were, to compulsion, he gulped down the contents of his glass and rose with watery eyes.
“It was a sin to do that,” he said with a sigh. “You always were an unreasonable fellow, Matthew. I only said I was glad that Sylvester held such opinions. Most young men nowadays are shockingly lax in their principles.” Matthew did not reply, but with cold, imperturbable face opened the door for him to pass out. Usher hung back.
“I must speak to you about my son Roderick. Business before pleasure. It has been my constant rule in life.”
“What has Roderick been doing now?” asked Matthew, closing the door again.
“He is bringing my grey hairs in sorrow to the grave again,” replied Usher. “My son and your son—what a difference, Matthew! 'Tis sharper than—”
“Rubbish! What's the matter, man?”