The Sins of the Father Part 35

"Of course," she answered smilingly. "I have a lot to say. I want you to tell me what to do."

"Anything you like," he answered bluntly.

"It's nothing to you?"

"I'll give you an allowance."

"Is that all?"

"What else do you expect?"

"You don't want to see her?"

"No."

"I thought you were coming for that?"

"I've changed my mind. And the less we see of each other the better. I'll go with you to-morrow and verify the records----"

Cleo laughed:

"You don't think I'm joking about her birth?"

"No. But I'm not going to take your word for it."

"All right, I'll go with you to-morrow."

He started again to the door. He felt that he must leave--that he was smothering. Something about the girl's manner got on his nerves. Not only was there no sort of sympathy or attraction between them but the longer he stayed in her presence the more he felt the desire to choke her. He began to look into her eyes with growing suspicion and hate, and behind their smiling plausibility he felt the power of a secret deadly hostility.

"You don't want me to go back home with the child, do you?" Cleo asked with a furtive glance.

"No, I do not," he replied, emphatically.

"I'm going back--but I'll give her up and let you educate her in a convent on one condition----"

"What?" he asked sharply.

"That you let me nurse the boy again and give me the protection and shelter of your home----"

"Never!" he cried.

"Please be reasonable. It will be best for you and best for me and best for her that her life shall never be blackened by the stain of my blood. I've thought it all out. It's the only way----"

"No," he replied sternly. "I'll educate her in my own way, if placed in my hands without condition. But you shall never enter my house again----"

"Is it fair," she pleaded, "to take everything from me and turn me out in the world alone? I'll give your boy all the love of a hungry heart. He loves me."

"He has forgotten your existence----"

"You know that he hasn't!"

"I know that he has," Norton persisted with rising wrath. "It's a waste of breath for you to talk to me about this thing"--he turned on her fiercely:

"Why do you wish to go back there? To grin and hint the truth to your friends?"

"You know that I'd cut my tongue out sooner than betray you. I'd like to scream it from every housetop--yes. But I won't. I won't, because you smile or frown means too much to me. I'm asking this that I may live and work for you and be your slave without money and without price----"

"I understand," he broke in bitterly, "because you think that thus you can again drag me down--well, you can't do it! The power you once had is gone--gone forever--never to return----"

"Then why be afraid? No one there knows except my mother. You hate me. All right. I can do you no harm. I'll never hate you. I'll just be happy to serve you, to love your boy and help you rear him to be a fine man. Let me go back with you and open the old house again----"

He lifted his hand with a gesture of angry impatience:

"Enough of this now--you go your way in life and I go mine."

"I'll not give her up except on my conditions----"

"Then you can keep her and go where you please. If you return home you'll not find me. I'll put the ocean between us if necessary----"

He stepped quickly to the door and she knew it was needless to argue further.

"Come to my hotel to-morrow morning at ten o'clock and I'll make you a settlement through a lawyer."

"I'll be there," she answered in a low tone, "but please, major, before you go let me ask you not to remember the foolish things I said and the way I acted when you came. I'm so sorry--forgive me. I made you terribly mad. I don't know what was the matter with me. Remember I'm just a foolish girl here without a friend----"

She stopped, her voice failing:

"Oh, my G.o.d, I'm so lonely, I don't want to live! You don't know what it means for me just to be near you--please let me go home with you!"

There was something genuine in this last cry. It reached his heart in spite of anger. He hesitated and spoke in kindly tones:

"Good night--I'll see you in the morning."

This plea of loneliness and homesickness found the weak spot in his armor.

It was so clearly the echo of his own feelings. The old home, with its beautiful and sad memories, his people and his work had begun to pull resistlessly. Her suggestion was a subtle and dangerous one, doubly seductive because it was so safe a solution of difficulties. There was not the shadow of a doubt that her deeper purpose was to ultimately dominate his personal life. He was sure of his strength, yet he knew that the wise thing to do was to refuse to listen.

At ten o'clock next morning she came. He had called a lawyer and drawn up a settlement that only waited her signature.

She had not said she would sign--she had not positively refused. She was looking at him with dumb pleading eyes.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "He had heard the call of his people."]

Without a moment's warning the boy pushed his way into the room. Norton sprang before Cleo and shouted angrily to the nurse:

"I told you not to let him come into this room----"

"But you see I des tum!" the boy answered with a laugh as he darted to the corner.

The thing he dreaded had happened. In a moment the child saw Cleo. There was just an instant's hesitation and the father smiled that he had forgotten her. But the hesitation was only the moment of dazed surprise.