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Page 5
"John!"
"William!"
And then--
"Is father ill?" burst out the younger.
"Janet said--"
"Dead!" interposed William harshly, all his indignation flaming into
speech and action as he confronted the cause of the disaster.
"Dead! Good God!"
"God had nothing to do with it."
"You mean?"
"You did it."
"I?"
"Yes. Your drunken revelry, your reckless extravagance, your dissipation
with women, your unfeeling silence, your--"
"Stop!" cried the younger. "I have come to my senses, I can't bear it."
"I'll say it if it kills you. You did it, I repeat. He longed and prayed
and waited and you didn't come. You didn't write. We could hear nothing.
The best father on earth."
The younger man sank down in a chair and covered his face with his
hands.
"When?" he gasped out finally.
"Three days ago."
"And have you--"
"He is buried beside mother in the churchyard yonder. Now that you are
here I thank God that he didn't live to see what you have become."
The respectable elder brother's glance took in the disreputable younger,
his once handsome face marred--one doesn't foregather with swine in the
sty without acquiring marks of the association--his clothing in rags.
Thus errant youth, that was youth no longer, came back from that far
country. Under such circumstances one generally has to walk most of the
way. He had often heard the chimes at midnight, sleeping coldly in the
straw stack of the fields, and the dust of the road clung to his person.
Through his broken shoes his bare feet showed, and he trembled visibly
as the other confronted him, partly from hunger and weakness and
shattered nerves, and partly from shame and horror and for what reason
God only knew.
The tall, handsome man in the long black coat, who towered over him so
grimly stern, was two years older than he, yet to the casual observer
the balance of time was against the prodigal by at least a dozen years.
However, he was but faintly conscious of his older brother. One word and
one sentence rang in his ear. Indeed, they beat upon his consciousness
until he blanched and quivered beneath their onslaught.
"Dead--you did it!"
Yes, it was just. No mercy seasoned that justice in the heart of either
man. The weaker, self-accusing, sat silent with bowed head, his
conscience seconding the words of the stronger. The voice of the elder
ran on with growing, terrifying intensity.
"Please stop," interposed the younger. He rose to his feet. "You are
right, Will. You were always right and I was always wrong. I did kill
him. But you need not have told me with such bitterness. I realized it
the minute you said he was dead. It's true. And yet I was honestly
sorry. I came back to tell him so, to ask his forgiveness."
"When your money was gone."
"You can say that, too," answered the other, wincing under the savage
thrust. "It's as true as the rest probably, but sometimes a man has to
get down very low before he looks up. It was that way with me. Well,
I've had my share and I've had my fling. I've no business here.
Good-bye." He turned abruptly away.
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