Part 57 (2/2)
Had you received me kindly, believe me, you would have found a grateful and affectionate heart to have met that kindness. You would have found a son, whose sole object, through life has been to discover a father, after whom he has yearned, who would have been delighted to have administered to his wants, to have yielded to his wishes, to have soothed him in his pain, and to have watched him in his sickness.
Deserted as I have been for so many years, I trust that I have not disgraced you, General De Benyon; and if ever I have done wrong, it has been from a wish to discover you. I can appeal to Lord Windermear for the truth of that a.s.sertion. Allow me to say, that it is a very severe trial--an ordeal which few pa.s.s through with safety--to be thrown as I have been upon the world, with no friend, no parent to a.s.sist or to advise me, to have to bear up against the contingency of being of unacknowledged and perhaps disgraceful birth. It is harder still, when I expected to find my dearest wishes realised, that, without any other cause than that of my features resembling those of my mother, I am to be again cast away. One thing, General De Benyon, I request, and I trust it will not be denied, which is, that I may a.s.sume the name which I am ent.i.tled to. I pledge you that I never will disgrace it. And now, sir, asking and expecting no more, I take my leave, and you may be a.s.sured, that neither poverty, privation, nor affliction of any kind, will ever induce me to again intrude into your presence. General De Benyon, farewell for ever.” I made my father a profound bow, and was quitting the room.
”Stop, sir,” said the general. ”Stop one moment, if you please.” I obeyed.
”Why did you put me out of temper? Answer me that.”
”Allow me to observe, sir, that I did not put you out of temper; and what is more, that I never lost my own temper during the insult and injury which I so undeservedly and unexpectedly have received.”
”But that very keeping your temper made me more angry, sir.”
”That is very possible; but surely I was not to blame. The greatest proof of a perfect gentleman is, that he is able to command his temper, and I wished you to acknowledge that I was not without such pretensions.”
”That is as much as to say that your father is no gentleman; and this, I presume, is a specimen of your filial duty,” replied the general, warmly.
”Far from it, sir; there are many gentlemen who, unfortunately, cannot command their tempers, and are more to be pitied than blamed for it; but, sir, when such happens to be the case, they invariably redeem their error, and amply so, by expressing their sorrow, and offering an apology.”
”That is as much as to say, that you expect me to apologise to you.”
”Allow me, sir, to ask you, did you ever know a De Benyon submit to an insult?”
”No, sir, I trust not.”
”Then, sir, those whose feelings of pride will not allow them to submit to an insult ought never to insult others. If, in the warmth of the moment, they have done so, that pride should immediately induce them to offer an apology, not only due to the party, but to their own characters. There is no disgrace in making an apology when we are in error, but there is a great disgrace in withholding such an act of common justice and reparation.”
”I presume I am to infer from all this, that you expect an apology from me?”
”General De Benyon, as far as I am concerned, that is now of little importance; we part, and shall probably never meet again; if you think that it would make you feel more comfortable, I am willing to receive it.”
”I must suppose by that observation, that you fully expect it, and otherwise will not stay?”
”I never had a thought of staying, general; you have told me that you have disinherited and discarded me for ever; no one with the feelings of a man would ever think of remaining after such a declaration.”
”Upon what terms, then, sir, am I to understand that you will consent to remain with me, and forget all that has pa.s.sed?”
”My terms are simple, general; you must say that you retract what you have said, and are very sorry for having insulted me.”
”And without I do that, you will never come here again?”
”Most decidedly not, sir. I shall always wish you well, pray for your happiness, be sorry at your death, and attend your funeral as chief mourner, although you disinherit me. That is my duty, in return for my having taken your name, and your having acknowledged that I am your son; but live with you, or even see you occasionally, I will not, after what has pa.s.sed this day, without you make me an apology.”
”I was not aware that it was necessary for a father to apologise to his son.”
”If you wrong a stranger, you offer an apology; how much more is it due to a near relation?”
”But a parent has claims upon his own son, sir, for which he is bound to tender his duty.”
”I grant it, in the ordinary course of things in this life; but, General De Benyon, what claims have you as a parent upon me? A son in most cases is indebted to his parents for their care and attention in infancy--his education--his religious instruction--his choice of a profession, and his advancement in life, by their exertions and interest; and when they are called away, he has a reasonable expectation of their leaving him a portion of their substance. They have a heavy debt of grat.i.tude to pay for what they have received, and they are further checked by the hopes of what they may hereafter receive. Up to this time, sir, I have not received the first, and this day I am told that I need not expect the last. Allow me to ask you, General De Benyon, upon what grounds you claim from me a filial duty? certainly not for benefits received, or for benefits in expectation; but I feel that I am intruding, and therefore, sir, once more, with every wish for your happiness, I take my leave.”
I went out, and had half closed the door after me, when the general cried out, ”Stop--don't go--j.a.phet--my son--I was in a pa.s.sion--I beg your pardon--don't mind what I said--I'm a pa.s.sionate old fool.”
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