The Sins of the Father - Part 86
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Part 86

"Yes. There's something very queer about your position. Your creed forbids you to receive a negro as a social equal?"

"Yes."

The boy suddenly lifted his head:

"Why did you bring Helen into this house?"

"I didn't bring her."

"You didn't invite her?"

"No."

"She says that you did."

"She thought so."

"She got an invitation?"

"Yes."

"Signed with your name?"

"Yes, yes."

"Who dared to write such a letter without your knowledge?"

"I can't tell you that."

"I demand it!"

Norton struggled between anger and fear and finally answered in measured tones:

"It was forged by an enemy who wished to embarra.s.s me in this campaign."

"You know who wrote it?"

"I suspect."

"You don't _know_?"

"I said, I suspect," was the angry retort.

"And you didn't kill him?"

"In this campaign my hands were tied."

The boy, watching furtively his father's increasing nervousness and anger, continued his questions in a slower, cooler tone:

"When you returned and found her here, you could have put her out?"

"Yes," Norton answered tremblingly, "and I ought to have done it!"

"But you didn't?"

"No."

"Why?"

The father fumbled his watch chain, moved uneasily and finally said with firmness:

"I am Helen's guardian!"

The boy lifted his brows:

"You are supposed to be his attorney only. Why did you, of all men on earth, accept such a position?"

"I felt that I had to."

"And the possibility of my meeting this girl never occurred to you? You, who have dinned into my ears from childhood that I should keep myself clean from the touch of such pollution--why did you take the risk?"

"A sense of duty to one to whom I felt bound."

"Duty?"

"Yes."

"It must have been deep--what duty?"

Norton lifted his hand in a movement of wounded pride:

"My boy!"

"Come, come, Dad, don't shuffle; this thing's a matter of life and death with me and you must be fair----"

"I'm trying----"

"I want to know why you are Helen's guardian, exactly why. We must face each other to-day with souls bare--why are you her guardian?"

"I--I--can't tell you."

"You've got to tell me!"

"You must trust me in this, my son!"

"I won't do it!" the boy cried, trembling with pa.s.sion that brought the tears blinding to his eyes. "We're not father and son now. We face each other man to man with two lives at stake--hers and mine! You can't ask me to trust you! I won't do it--I've got to know!"

The father turned away: