Part 56 (2/2)

She caught his arm and cried, ”Sit down--haven't I a right to be heard?

Hasn't a mother any rights--”

”No,” cut in Grant, ”not when she strangles her motherhood!”

”But how could I take my motherhood without disgracing my boy?” she asked.

He met her eyes. They were steady eyes, and were brightening. The man stared at her and answered: ”When I brought him to you after mother died, a little, toddling, motherless boy, when I wanted you to come with us to mother him--and I didn't want you, Maggie, any more than you wanted me, but I thought his right to a mother was greater than either of our rights to our choice of mates--then and there, you made your final choice.”

”What does G.o.d mean,” she whined, ”by hounding me all my life for that one mistake!”

”Maggie--Maggie,” answered the man, sitting down as she sank into a chair, ”it wasn't the one mistake that has made you unhappy.”

”That's twaddle,” she retorted, ”sheer twaddle. Don't I know how that child has been a cancer in my very heart--burning and gnawing and making me wretched? Don't I know?”

”No, you don't, Mag. If you want the truth,” replied Grant bluntly, ”you looked upon the boy as a curse. He has threatened you every day of your life. The very love you think you have for him, which I don't doubt for a minute, Mag, made you do a mad, foolish, infinitely cruel, spiteful thing--that night at the South Harvey riot. Perhaps you might care for Kenyon's affection now, but you can't have that even remotely. For all his interest in you is limited by the fact that you robbed Lila of her father. All your cancer and heart burnings, Mag, have been your own selfishness. Lord, woman--I know you.”

He turned his hard gaze upon her and she winced. But she clearly was enjoying the quarrel. It stimulated her taut nerves. The house behind her was empty. She felt free to brawl.

”And you? And you?” she jeered. ”I suppose he's made a saint of you.”

The man's face softened, as he said simply, ”I don't claim to be a saint, Mag. But I owe Kenyon everything I am in the world--everything.”

”Well, it isn't much of a debt,” she laughed.

”No,” he repeated, ”it's not much of a debt.” After a moment he added, ”Doctor Nesbit has kept this secret all these years. Now it's time to let these people know. You can see why, and the only reason I came to you--”

”You came to me, Grant,” she cried, ”to tell me you were going to shame me before that--that--before her--that old, yellow-haired tabby, who goes around doing good! Ugh--”

Grant stared at her blankly a full, uncomprehensive minute. Finally Margaret went on: ”And I suppose the next thing you long-nosed busybodies will do will be to get chicken hearted about Tom Van Dorn's rights in the matter. Ah, you hypocrites!” she cried.

”Well, I don't know,” answered Grant sternly; ”if Lila should go to her father for advice--why shouldn't he have all the facts?”

Margaret rose. Her bright, gla.s.sy eyes flashed. Anger colored her face.

Her bosom rose and fell as she exclaimed: ”But she'll not go to him. Oh, he's perfectly foolish about her. Every time a photographer in this town takes her picture, he snoops around and gets one. He has her picture in his watch, in which he thinks she looks like the Van Dorns. When he goes away he takes her picture in a leather frame and puts it on his table in the hotel--except when I'm around.” She laughed. ”Ain't it funny? Ain't it funny,” she chattered hysterically, ”him doddering the way he does about her, and her freezing the life out of him?” She shook with mirth, and went on: ”Oh, the devil's coming round for Tom Van Dorn's soul--and all there is of it--all there is of it is the little green spot where he loves this brat. The rest's all rotted out!”

She laughed foolishly. Then Grant said:

”Well, Mag--I must be going. I just thought it would be square to tell you before I go any further. About the other--the affair of Lila and her father is no concern of mine. That's for Lila and her mother to settle.

But you and I and Kenyon are bound together by the deepest tie in the world, Maggie. And I had to come to you.” She stared into his gnarled face, then shut her eyes, and in an instant wherein they were closed she lapsed into her favorite pose and disappeared behind her mask.

”Vurry kind of you, I'm shuah. Chahmed to have this little talk again.”

He gazed at the empty face, saw the drugged eyes, and the smirking mouth, and felt infinitely sad as a flash of her girlhood came back to his memory. ”Well, good-by, Mag,” he said gently, and turned and went down the steps.

The messenger boy whom Grant Adams pa.s.sed as he went down the walk to the street from the Van Dorn home, put a telegram into Mrs. Van Dorn's lap. It was from Was.h.i.+ngton and read:

”Appointment as Federal Judge a.s.sured. Notify Sands. Have Calvin prepare article for Monday's _Times_ and other papers.”

She re-read it, held it in her hand for a time as she looked hungrily into the future.

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