(navigation image)
Home American Libraries | Canadian Libraries | Universal Library | Community Texts | Project Gutenberg | Children's Library | Biodiversity Heritage Library | Additional Collections
Search: Advanced Search
Anonymous User (login or join us)
Upload
See other formats

Full text of "Is this your son, my Lord? a novel by Helen H. Gardener"

|S THIS TOUR SON, MY Loup? 

.M. - > c^G)^- 



A NOVEL 



BY 



HELEN H. GARDENER 



AUTHOR OF 

fray You, Sir, Whose Daughter?" "Pushed by Unseen Hands,' 

"Men, Women and Gods," "Sex in Brain" 

"A Thoughtless Tes t " Etc. 




BOSTON, MASS. 

ARENA PUBLISHING COMPANY 

COPLEY SQUARE 

1894 





COPYRIGHT, 1890, 

BV 
HELEN H. GARDENER. 



'Is this-your son, my Lord ?" Shakespeare. 



" The shame itself doth call for Instant remedy." Shakespeare. 

" I have told you what I have seen and heard but faintly ; nothing like 
the Image and horror of it." Ibid. 

" What do we live for, if it is not to make life less difficult to each 
other?" George Eliot. 

" Our English practice of excluding from literature subjects and refer- 
ences that are unfit for boys and girls, has something to recommend it, but 
it undeniably leans to a certain narrowness and thinness, and to some 
most nauseous hypocrisy. All subjects are not to be discussed by all ; and 
one result in our case is that some of the most Important subjects In the 
world receive no discussion whatever." John Morley. 



PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION, 
i. 

[This jqok flas been taken so seriously by its critics, whether they 
have criticised it favorably or unfavorably, that for the second 
edition its publisher deems an explanatory preface desirable.] 

IT is an interesting mental condition which enables 
people to know things and not know them at the same 
time; to be perfectly familiar with the facts, and yet 
Jail to grasp their significance until it is put before 
them in dramatic form. Then they exclaim: "This can- 
not be true or I should have known it before. If it 
were true, it should be understood by all ; but it is not 
true it cannot be it is too shocking!" 

In writing this story the author had no idea that there 
would be any question as to its probability. She be- 
lieved that most people of mature age, in this day of 
newspapers, had become so familiar with the recital of 
kindred facts that this tale would be- merely a different 
presentation of a known condition; that it would be from 
a new point of view, perhaps, but not a new acquaintance. 

She was aware that the picture had usually been drawn 
from an angle of vision opposed to her own; but she 
believed that artists and public knew that there was 
another side to every picture and that one day it would 
be drawn. The relations of the sexes have been exploited 
in song and in story ever since the first pair found in 
each other interest enough to stir the emotions to the 
depth of pleasure or pain that finds expression in lan- 
guage. The outlook has varied with the nature, ability 
or purpose of him who painted human life in words. 
The method, too, has depended upon the writer. One 
presents his thoughts and theories, his hopes, fears, and 
suggestions, in the form of essay or didactic argument. 
A.nother makes poetry a vehicle, and pleads the cause of 
labor as he writes "The Song of the Shirt," or scores 

i 



ii Preface to Second Edition. 

hypocrisy and cruel injustice in a rhythmic dirge like 
" The Bridge of Sighs." These are not " pleasant read- 
ing." They do not amuse or merely entertain. They 
are not " art for art's sake" any more than was " Uncle 
Tom's Cabin," or "Put Yourself in His Place" or 
Hugo's "Les Miserables," or "The Man who Laughs 
(By Order of the King)." Such writers had a motive 
over and above and beyond the mere artistic use of lan- 
guage. Exploiting their own mental ability for pastime 
and profit alone did not satisfy them. They, and many 
others who use poetry or fiction as a vehicle to convey 
ideas to readers, had a message to give, a suggestion to 
make, a criticism to offer. They chose to offer it in the 
form of poetry or fiction. Those critics who insist that 
poetry and fiction should be for amusement and enter- 
tainment only would deprive us of 

" One more unfortunate, 

Weary of breath, 
Rashly importunate 
Gone to her death," 

and give us in its stead, "A good looking girl got tired 
of living and jumped into the river. She had no home. 
She became desperate and ended it all. It would be a 
charity to bury her decently, and ask no questions as to 
her morals. Probably they were below par." 

Some readers would prefer the method of the original, 
even though it is not pleasant to read and conveys a 
lesson indeed several lessons very pointedly. 

Now, there are many novels which are written for 
people who read because they do not want to think 
about anything serious or important. They want to be 
amused as they fall gently to sleep of a summer day. 
There are other novels which are intended for those who 
enjoy fiction that not only entertains but stimulates and 
arouses thought. Between the two types there is a wide 
range. The latter class of readers could not be induced 



Preface to Second Edition. iii 

to read the former class of novels only as one might 
taste a confection after dinner. The former class of 
readers avoid the "novel with a purpose" as they would 
the pestilence, and since such works are fortunately not 
contagious, those who do not like or approve of them are 
safe. They can eat their confections and welcome. 
Bonbons may constitute their entire dinner. But what 
is insisted upon is that they allow the same liberty of 
choice to both author and reader of the more serious 
and purposeful fiction. 

The discussion is very old. The question is where it 
was hundreds of years ago when the writers who touched 
upon religious or social questions were warned away 
by the sticklers for " art for art's sake" and "fiction 
for pleasure only." One point this school of critics 
always ignores. It is this. If they like the topic under 
discussion, if it presents their side, it is legitimate 
fiction and good art. If it presents the side they object 
to, it is neither the one nor the other. The stronger and 
more powerful the presentation the more sure they are 
on this point. I will illustrate. All fiction there is 
hardly an exception in Christian countries is pervaded 
by subtle arguments in favor of Christianity. " She 
knelt long before the altar and arose strengthened and 
calmed," etc. There is, too, directly and indirectly, in 
all of our fiction argument, more or less open, in favor 
of certain forms of marriage, legal enactment, govern- 
ment control, etc. How the wife clung to an unworthy 
husband pervades fiction, and is good "art" and quite 
above reproach as fiction. We are taught in many a war 
story what true patriotism is and warned against the 
fatal results of treason, or failure in duty to a cause. 
Illustrations need not be multiplied. They are so familiar 
on so many subjects that to give a hint of one will furnish 
clues tq hundreds of forms of argument ia our fictjoji to 



iv Preface to Second Edition. 

which we are all so accustomed that we do not give them 
a conscious thought. The influence over our habits of 
thought is none the less powerful because we have not 
stopped to analyze the motives. 

Let a new idea, or "an unpopular train of thought be 
suggested more or less plainly in a novel, and at once the 
cry goes up, " This has no place in fiction." Its opposite 
may have held place therein without a protest until it has 
grown fast in our mental life. 

The discussion of religion was nothing new in fiction 
when the protest went up against " Robert Elsmere." 
It was only that the point of view and method of hand- 
ling the material used was new to most novel readers as 
an argument in fiction. 

Sex relations have been the theme of song and story 
since the beginning of fictitious writing. Woman's rela- 
tions to man have been exploited therein from the time 
she entered the world until she was borne to the grave. 
Nothing has been too secret or too sacred to be used as 
argument or suggestion. Even the throes of maternity 
have not escaped portrayal. Her foibles have met 
with no veil of charity, and so courtesan life (open and 
secret) is as familiar to the- readers of fiction as is life it- 
self that is to say, the courtesan life of the woman. 
How long she would live after the " first false step " ; 
how, and when, and where, and why that step was taken, 
down through all its stages until the father waves her 
from his own immaculate presence with " You are no 
longer child of mine, etc." We all know the infinite 
variety of forms in which it has served to sharpen and 
supply the novelist's pen. But beginning with the " first 
false step" of a boy, whether innocently taken or other- 
wise, and following him from the other point of view, 
in man's relation to woman, is, it would seem, not fit 
for fiction and lias no place therein according to one class 



Preface to Second .Edition. v 

of critics. There is nothing new in the criticism, and 
there is nothing new in the topic. The point of view 
only is unusual to these critics. There are those who 
think it might be well for this angle of vision to be more 
familiar to them. 

This novel was not written as history, but there is not 
a material point in it which is not based on fact. Nor 
are they based upon isolated or particularly unusual 
facts, as would be well understood, were readers accus- 
tomed to comprehend what they read in newspapers 
and in legal, medical and historical works. 

Here again comes in the effectiveness of fiction. One 
reads a legal or medical or philosophical essay wherein 
all the facts appear, but he is not stirred. His imagina- 
tion is too weak or too little aroused to recognize the 
bearings of cold formal statement. Then, again, the 
readers of such treatises are, as a rule, already informed 
of the facts, while the great general public, which does 
not dream of them, never reads such essays or books. 

America's most gifted orator wrote wisely when he 
said: 

" You can put all your ideas, theories, and fancies into the form 
of story. It is far better than direct preaching, because it touches 
the artistic sense and reaches the heart and brain through the 
perception of the beautiful or dramatic. . . . Pathos and philosophy 
in story will make all who read think, and what they think will 
make their heads clearer and their hearts better." 

Again he has said: 

"It was not the fashion for people to speak or write their 
thoughts. We were flooded with the literature of hypocrisy. The 
writers did not faithfully describe the worlds in which they lived. 
They endeavored to make a fashionable world. They pretended 
that the cottage or the hut in which they dwelt was a palace, and 
they called the little area in which they threw their slops their 
domain, their realm, their empire. They were ashamed of the real, 
of what their world actually was. They imitated ; that is to say, 
they told lies, and these lies tilled the literature of most lands. 



vi Preface to Second Edition. 

Whoever differs with the multitude, especially with a led multi- 
tude that is to say, with a multitude of taggers will find out 
from their leaders that he has committed an unpardonable sin. It 
is a crime to travel a road of your own, especially if you put up 
guide-boards for the information of others. 

No writer must be measured by a word or line or paragraph. 
He is to be measured .by h work by the tendency, not of one 
line, but by the tendency of all. 

Which way does the great stream tend? Is it for good or evil? 
Are the motives high and noble, or low and infamous? 

We cannot measure Shakespeare by a few lines, neither can we 
measure the Bible by a few chapters. 

The great man who gives a true transcript of his mind fascinates 
and instructs. Most writers suppress individuality. They wish to 
please the public. They natter the stupid and pander to the preju- 
dice of their readers. They write for the market making books 
as other mechanics make shoes. They have no message they bear 
no torch they are simply the slaves of customers. The books 
they manufacture are handled by " the trade; "^hey are regarded 
as harmless. The pulpit does not object ; the young person can 
read the monotonous pages without a blush or a thought. On. the 
titlepages of these books you will find the imprint of the great 
publishers on the rest of the pages, 'nothing. These books might 
be prescribed for insomnia." 

That is not only beautifully said but it is all true. Ten 
thousand essays on slavery would not stir the heart and 
conscience as did Mrs. Stowe's one dramatic story. Peo- 
ple had thought and said that they knew all about slav- 
ery but she was abused and denounced for "having 
pictured horrors that did not exist," as if it were pos- 
sible to understand human slavery and do that! 

The double system of morals which has legal and 
therefore social support which makes of man a free 
and dominant human being and of woman a dependent 
function only and always is not understood one whit 
better than was physical slavery in 1853. Race owner- 
ship with its double code of moral obligation is now 
illegal, and therefore looked upon as immoral and wholly 
pernicious. Sex ownership is still legal, and for that 



Preface to Second Edition. vii 

reason, and for that only, is it recognized as less vicious 
that a double standard of moral obligation should exist 
between the sexes. There is but one depth of degrada- 
tion below that which allowed men to hold in bondage 
their fellow men and make of them financial dependents, 
and legal and social and moral pensioners because they 
were black; and that is the depth which is touched 
when, by all legal, moral, social and financial conditions 
the marriage altar is but an auction block upon which, 
for the sake of the right to live, the purity and devo- 
tion and loyalty of womanhood are sold not on equal 
terms with no pretence of fair exchange into a per- 
petual servitude of body and soul that knows no limit 
and can hope ror no escape. 

The black man had his food and clothes and code of 
morals and duties, in which he had no voice, served to 
him by a dominant race from which he could make 
no appeal. He was a dependent mentally, morally, and 
physically. That was the reason of his degradation. 
It was not that he suffered physical hardships. He was 
frequently better off^ in that regard, than was his free 
brother. It was the root of the syste7n that degraded 
him. He was held as an inferior with no voice in his 
own control and no right to his own development. 

Woman stands in that position to-day. She has no 
voice in her own government, nor in fixing the stand- 
ards by which she is judged and controlled. She is a 
dependent morally, mentally, financially and physically. 

It is all very well and very silly to say that women 
control society and make the moral standards that 
govern it. They do nothing of the kind. Financial de- 
pendents and political nonentities create no standards. 
They receive them ready made. The merest modicum 
of reason will supply the proof of this. 

No subject class no unrecognized, dependent class 



viii Preface to Second Edition. 

ever yet made public opinion either for itself or for 
others. It always did, and it always must, simply reflect 
the sentiments and opinions of its rulers. 

It is true that many a "woman treats with scorn the 
"fallen "of her sex while receiving the companion in 
crime as a suitable son or husband. Who makes that 
sentiment? Who decides what woman is "fit to be a 
wife and mother" ? Who makes the laws that give 
divorce to a husband for the least fault of the wife, but 
places another standard upon the loyalty of the husband ? 

Who talks about " making an honest woman" of his 
companion in guilt? Who makes him "honest"? 
Who enacted the legal standards upon which all these 
social sentiments rest ? A man is valued of men for 
many things, least of which is his chastity. A woman is 
valued of men for few things, chief of which is her 
chastity. This double code can by no sane or reasonable 
person be claimed as woman made. Woman has had no 
voice whatever in its establishment. She has the same 
voice and power possessed by all financial and legally 
dependent creatures in its continuation and reflection. 
She is a very good mirror; but she cannot be accused 
of being the creator of the original of the reflection. 

The willingness to accept a degraded and subordinate 
status in the world, and the assertion that they like it, 
are the lowest depths of human degradation to which hu- 
man beings can be reduced. A system which produces 
willing legal, moral, financial and social dependents and 
inferiors is one that cannot fail, as all history shows, to 
breed crime and vice, poverty and insanity, imbecility 
and moral obliquity enough to make of a beautiful 
world a mere den of discomfort, discord, and despair. 

This lesson has been taught and learned with classes 
and with races ; but it is yet to bear but withered fruit 
while the mother of tnese classes and races is beneath 



Preface to Second Edition, ix 

justice and outside of freedom, while she is a financial 
dependent (which is always a slave ) a political non- 
existent, (which is always a creature without defence) a 
moral beggar at the feet of her companion in degrada- 
tion and a social echo of the opinions, expressed or 
insinuated, of those who hold over her not only all physi- 
cal, financial, and social power, but who also sway her 
through the tenderest and holiest ties, and scruple not, 
alas, to make her the victim of her own virtue. 

Freedom of religion had its novelists long ago and, in 
its newer, broader phase, has them to-day. Freedom of 
political choice and action has numbered many a roman- 
cer and poet as its champion. Labor has not failed to 
dramatize its cause in literature and on the stage. The 
cause of manhood as against kingcraft, priestcraft, or 
slave driver, was exploited by many a gifted soul who 
with the dash of a poet's or novelist's pen showed more 
people the hideousness of the old and the hope in the 
newer thought than could have been induced to read or 
made to understand dry legal argument or sociological 
treatise. 

Shall not woman have her novelists also ? 

The writer of this story does not claim to be the in- 
spired romancer, who shall stir the world's thought 
aright in the greatest, and tenderest, and holiest cause 
that has ever yet been presented ; but she may venture to 
hope that this volume may stir others, more gifted than 
she, to paint in colors so true, and with hand so strong, 
that the world must understand, and understanding, 
must with bravery and kindness, meet and solve the 
most far-reaching question that has ever occupied the 
brain of man. A sovereign race cannot be born of sub- 
ject mothers. A noble race cannot spring from the 
mental and moral echo of a dominant past. A healthy 
race is not a possible product of enforced and ignorant 



* Preface to Second Edition. 

motherhood. A truth-loving and truth-telling race will 
never be borne by those who must take their opinions 
from others and suppress rebellion under a show of acqui- 
escence. 

Moral idiots, such as Jesse Pomeroy and Reginald 
Birchall in life, Pecksniffs, Becky Sharps, and Fred 
Harmons in fiction, will continue to cumber the earth so 
long as conditions continue to breed them. 

The first condition necessary to any real manhood was 
liberty to do and be the best that was in him to do and 
be. Woman belongs to the same race. Her needs are 
the same. It is far more important that she have the 
soul and consciousness of dignified and independent 
individuality than that men have it. Why ? The race 
is stamped by its mothers. The codes of morals that 
teach woman to lack all proper self-respect to accept 
a status which throws to her, as quite good enough, 
that which man scorns to accept for himself, gives 
man an inheritance from his mother that keeps the 
world filled with sly, incompetent, subservient, double- 
dealing, over-reaching, or mayhap mentally befogged 
and morally distorted human animals, who fight with each 
other and scuffle like dogs in a pit for the tid-bits of life. 

The battle for womanhood is the battle for the race. 
Upon her dignity of character and position depends the 
future. A slave she was, who was coui'ted with a club. 
A subordinate she is, who is held as a toy. In both 
cases she was and is a perquisite of man. She has had 
no status for and because of herself. Man has. Woman 
shall have. It is not a struggle to dethrone man. His 
dignity is far greater when he stands as an equal among 
the free, than when he towers an owner above those 
whom he denies what he demands for himself. The 
dignity of Abraham Lincoln grasping the hand of a 
freedman surely stands higher than that of the kindest 



Preface to Second Edition. xi 

'master" on earth, as his slave kneels befoi'e him. 
With an equal social, moral, financial, and political 
status for men and women, surely the relation of the 
sexes will be sweeter, nobler, purer, and holier than it 
can hope to be where Power and Patience sit by the 
hearthstone, and suspect each other of double dealing 
because they are sure that the words liberty, morality, 
honor, and justice have two sets of meanings according 
to the sex to which they are applied. 

Perfect trust and perfect love never yet existed except 
between equals. One may trust and the other love; 
but an ideal marriage will never be made until legally, 
morally, and financially there sits at the hearthstone 
two who are equals and who use language and thought 
to mean for each what it means for the other. 

The present is a time of transition. The new thought 
and the old training cut cruelly across each other. This 
is true in the religious world, in the field of economics, 
and in the relations of the sexes. The old conservative 
training fixes the old habits, the new ideas arouse thought 
and aspiration and sense of progress and justice. 

In religion we find a consequent development of the so- 
called reconcilers of the irreconcilable those who vainly 
try to graft the old forms of faith and expression upon 
the new forms of scepticism. The result is (conscious or 
unconscious) hypocrisy and a vast and troubled unrest. 

In the field of economics, the clash of old training 
and habits upon the new thoughts and aspirations have 
filled the world with what we call the " labor troubles." 
The old training and habits as to sex relations, clashing 
with the new and higher conception of justice and 
honor, have begun to cut savagely into the heart and 
brain, not only of the women who, with intellects de- 
veloped by study and thought, and a greater financial 
independence than they ever before enjoyed, reach out 



xii Preface to Second Edition. 

for a love that shall not be mere tender patronage which 
shall have within it the frankness and honor of comrade- 
shipbut it also finds the younger men unprepared to 
meet their own awakened sense of honor. 

Young manhood is beginning to demand more of itself 
than it once did. There are men to whose souls neither 
secrecy nor confession brings relief. Their past is a 
horror to them and their future is in its shadow. This 
finer sense of personal honor was once thought to belong 
to pure and good women only, and the cry, " I have 
debased myself soul and body, and I do not dare accept 
your love," was a cry that no "manly" soul would 
have made in fiction a hundred years ago. It is made in 
life to-day. 

Since writing this book one young man said to the 
author, with anguish unspeakable : " If I had read it 
ten years ago, it would have been worth everything to 
me." 

It was asked of another : "Do you think it overdrawn 
from a college boy's point of view ?" 

" I am twenty-three years old," he said, " and I have 
known at least fifty cases so nearly akin to it that any 
one of them might easily dread lest it is his case you have 
drawn." This was a college boy. The other a business 
man in a village. 

. The Nassau Literary Magazine, conducted by the sen- 
ior class of Princeton College, in its review of the first 
edition of this book says: "It states plain truths, and 
teaches a plain lesson. It comes very close to any college 
boy who has kept his eyes open. When we finish we may 
say, not ' Is This Your Son, My Lord,' but, Is it I? Is 
it If" 

Many of the younger men are ready for the new mes- 
sage. Their own thoughts run counter to their training 
and to legal and social conditions. It is almost possi- 



Preface to Second Edition. xih 

ble to guess the age of the critic by the tone of his criti- 
cism in this matter alone. 

Leaving out those critics who simply do not like the 
book because they do not like it who follow Douglas 
Jerrold in his attitude toward Thackeray; * leaving out, 
too, that class whose own well-known vulnerability and 
unrepentant moral obliquity make them supersensitive 
and therefore severe as to the moral purpose of those 
who speak of (to condemn) that which these critics find 
it not " obscene " or immoral to do; and leaving out the 
class who hold that fiction is art and art only (except 
where it deals with their own side of some question) 
there are one or two types of critics to which it seems 
proper to reply here : 

1st. Those who have understood the book to say what 
its author does not mean to have it say. 

2d. Those who demand only that they be assured 
that such things do exist and therefore need to be pre- 
sented in a manner to attract attention. 

In the former class it is a surprise to find the sincere, 
brave, and astute editor of the ARENA. He, in his kind 
and frank review of the novel says : " That there are 
many timeservers among theologians is unquestionably 
true ; that there are far more who dare not investigate 
is equally true, but to hold that they are as a body 
hypocrites, is, I think, at once unjust and untrue." 

To that the author agrees. It seems only fair to say 
that she believes there is far less conscious and inten- 
tional hypocrisy either in or out of the pulpit than is 
commonly believed. Heredity and environment form 
habits of thought as well as of outward conformity, and 

*The extreme sensitiveness of Thackeray to criticism is well 
known. He once ?aid to Douglas Jerrold : " I hear that you have 
been saying that ' The Virginians ' is the worst book I ever wrote." 
" I never said anything of the kind," said Jerrold ; " I said it was 
the worst book that anybody ever wrote." 



xiv Preface to Second Edition. 

analytical and logical qualities of mind are rare indeed. 
It is only after the most unusual mental convulsions that 
man stops to take stock, so to speak, of his own mental 
attitude and belongings. He has been trained to con- 
form to certain outward customs whose inward signifi- 
cance he does not take the trouble to analyze, and so we 
find the anomaly of giving and taking the sacrament 
and saying " This is the body and blood," etc., by those 
who assure us that they have no doubt, that Christ 
was a mechanic, as human and as fallible as any of us. 
If that is true, there is no logical ground possible upon 
which the sacraiflent, as such, can be given or taken. 
But the author does not believe that most of those who 
think they accept both of these points of view have dis- 
covered that there is irreconcilability between them. 

There are some who have made that discovery. One 
such character appears in the story, but there also 
appears, and purposely, the Bishop with stern and 
uncompromising mental and moral integrity. He refuses 
to compromise upon a point he deems vital, even to 
secure a candidate who is looked upon as particularly 
desirable. Again, old Mr. Ball, his wife, and their 
clergyman were drawn with a constant recognition of 
their moral earnestness and lack of hypocrisy, even in 
their strangely contradictory mental attitudes. 

In short, the writer of this book did not intend to con- 
vey such an impression, and she does not believe that 
intentional hypocrisy or a conscious lack of moral integ- 
rity accounts for the very prevalent scepticism that 
claims to be Christianity, while it yields every essential 
Christian principle. If she drew one or two conscious 
hypocrites, she drew a larger number who were not so. 
It is, therefore, hardly just, she thinks, to accuse her of 
holding or advancing the opinion that all clergymen and 
others who differ from her in belief are hypocrites. She 



Preface to Second Edition. xv 

did not say so. She does not think so. Many of her 
best friends, including a beloved father whose earnest- 
ness and honesty of purpose no one ever yet questioned 
so far as she is aware, are and have been clergymen. 
Most of her best friends are or call themselves 
Christians. A few of them are Roman Catholics. 

Were she to draw one or two conscious hypocrites in 
politics and then touch certain points such as the 
tariff upon which men differ, giving the side she 
inclines to accept as clearest and best, could the charge 
be made that she held that all political opponents were 
hypocrites ? She thinks not. Surely religious opponents 
should be as generous and accept criticism or differ- 
ence as kindly as do political or social opposites. In the 
past they have not. Those who have taught charity 
have extended little of it to those who opposed their 
absolute sway. In the future the author believes that 
discussion and not suppression will be the habit of 
mind that will lead to a civilization which shall be a fact 
and not merely a name. 

2d. To those who think the picture of sex depravity 
in the Mansfield family is overdrawn, there is this to 
say. The case upon which this story was based is from 
life. The elder of the two is still living and is a respected 
member of society to-day and a deacon. In the story 
he is killed off. That is about the only bit of fiction 
in his case. He made the request of the "doctor." 
He afterwards paid a bank cashier to do what he is 
made to do in the story. The aforenamed cashier is 
also a prominent "society" man to-day. 

That it is not an isolated case can be proved by many 
medical, asylum, and legal records, to which access is not 
general but quite possible. To snow THAT THE PRES- 
ENT LEGAL MACHINERY is ACCESSORY BOTH BEFORE AND 

AFTER THESE AWFUL CONDITIONS, AND THAT THE GEN- 
ERAL PUBLIC SHOULD KNOW IT, IT NEED ONLY BE SAID 
THAT IN ONE STATE IN THIS UNION A LITTLE CHILD 

SEVEN YEARS OLD MAY GIVE HER "CONSENT " TO HER 

OWN RUIN, WHILE IN NINE STATES THE LEGAL AGE IS 
TEN, IN SIX IT IS TWELVE YEARS, IN ONLY ONE IS IT AS 

HIGH AS EIGHTEEN. In thirty-five States and Territories 



xvi Preface to Second Edition. 

the age of consent is to-day under fifteen years, and 
can words express the awfulness of it? in "secret 
session" year after year it is sought to reduce this age 
so that men may be safe from legal penalty! These 
same girls may not give legal consent to honorable mar- 
riage until sixteen and eighteen years of age. They- may 
not sell property; but, in order that men may legally 
send down to moral and physical death little children, 
fourteen, ten, and seven years is made the age of discre- 
tion in the one matter which is her social, moral, and 
physical death! Why is this? Does it not take as bad 
a man as "Mansfield" to do deliberately so terrible a 
legal wrong ? His character is only an illustration of the 
logical outcome of a civilization that makes legal such 
atrocity as this ; that leaves it a possibility in a civilized 
land to witness the spectacle of a legislature refusing 
after debate to raise the " age of consent" from seven 
and ten years to fourteen or sixteen, as was done only 
last year by legislators who would, no doubt, insist in 
pub/ ic, that so low a moral type as the elder " Mansfield " 
is, if not impossible, at least too rare to be reckoned 
with. If our legislators so carefully pave the way to 
develop and protect such men as the elder " Mansfield" 
no one need be surprised when he appears to tread the 
path made smooth and easy for him. 

"Do not put these things in fiction legal, medical, 
a"nd scientific works are the place for them," cry one set 
of critics. My reply is they have had that place during 
1890 years of Christian civilization and the above is still 
possible. If the general reading public including the 
mothers understood, the author believes the remedy 
would be devised. To bury such universal wrongs in 
technical works is to help perpetuate them. They touch 
the welfare of all. All have the right to know of them 
and women and young girls most of all. To them it 
means everything. To our legislators it has meant a 
somewhat amusing and salacious "secret session." 
What will it mean when the manly men are made by 
the dramatic presentation in fiction to see the infamy 
as it is ? What will it mean when women and girls know 
that* it exists and receives legal and therefore social 
sanction ? That is the question now to be answered. 

THE AUTHOR. 



IS THIS YOUK SON, MY LOKDf 



CHAPTER I. 

"Put on what weary negligence you please, 
You and your fellows; I "d have It come to question: 
If he dislike It, let him to my sister, 
Whose mind and mine, I know, In that are one, 
Not to be overruled." Shakespeare. 

" Sir, I had thought by making this well known unto you. 
To have found a safe redress." Ibid. 

SOON after I began the practice of medicine, I 
went to a milling town in the West. I had been 
there several months, and numbered among my 
patrons one of the wealthiest men of the place, a 
large mill owner, whose standing in the community 
was second to that of none. His older children had 
been sent to the best Eastern schools ; but the son, 
Preston, a well grown young fellow of seventeen, 
had recently been transferred to a Military Academy 
nearer home, where it was hoped by his parents 
that the too evident tendency to shirk his studies 
might be corrected, and at the same time a subduing 
process put upon his inclination to play pranks on 
the other boys. He was a big, good-natured, rather 
- slow-minded fellow, who had developed few if any 
really bad traits, and was devotedly attached to 
his sister and a cousin who had been brought up 
as a sister in the family. These two girls were 



2 7s this your /Son, my Lord? 

still at school in New York, and regretted deeply 
that Preston had been taken away and put, as they 
felt, under military discipline for his antics. 

The boy had not been long in the new school, 
when he ceased to write home with the usual 
regularity, and in the letters which he did send his 
mother thought that she discovered a different 
tone. 

The result was that his father went to see the 
boy, and found him languid, unnerved, and evi- 
dently in ill health. The little sprightliness he 
had previously possessed seemed gone, and after a 
vain endeavor to learn the cause of the trouble, 
his father brought him home and to me. 

It did not take me long to discover the origin of 
his malady. He had fallen into certain unwhole- 
some practices, an epidemic of which appeared, 
from his account, to have broken out in the school, 
where the young fellows had been too intimately 
crowded together, the effects of which were pain- 
fully apparent to a practiced eye. These facts, 
together with the full history of his own case, I got 
from the boy, by degrees, and then told his father 
the whole story and what the ultimate outcome 
might be in both his mental and physical nature, 
if he were sent back to the school. 

Mr. Mansfield was incredulous at first, then angry, 
and finally, after he had stormed, threatened and 
blustered, declared that he would disinherit the boy, 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 3 

who could then, if he chose, proceed to make an 
idiot of himself at his leisure. 

I argued the case with him, as best I could, and 
said that, since the young fellow had harmed no 
one but himself, and had not understood what he 
was laying up for his own future, the moral side of 
the question might be put .quite aside and we could 
proceed to treat him intelligently for the physical 
trouble already developed. Mr. Mansfield looked 
at me for a moment as if he were somewhat 
perplexed, and then, greatly to my astonishment, 
brought his fist down on my desk with a thundering 
whack, and exclaimed : 

" Moral side be hanged ! Harmed nobody else ! 
That's the trouble the little fool ! " 

I confess that I was both puzzled and very greatly 
surprised. I had never seen the man before in any 
capacity but that of a mild, respectable patient, or 
on Sundays, as he passed the contribution box 
in the leading church of the town. At such times 
his conduct and language had, of course, been above 
reproach, and this was an introduction to a phase of 
his character which was wholly unexpected by me. 

" I do not quite understand you," I said. 

He stopped in his impatient walk up and down 
the room, looked at me steadily for a moment and 
then said quite deliberately : 

" How old are you, doctor ? Yes, yes, thirty- 
two. 'M-m-m ! Married man, I think you told me? 



4 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

Oh, yes, I remember now ; wife in Europe with her 
mother, who is ill. Well, by Jove, you are the very 
man to do it for me. I'll pay you well. Money is no 
object in a case like this, and all expense to you both 
of course I'll stand. I don't want, and by gad, I won't 
have, an idiot for an only son. Close up your office 
for a few weeks and take the boy off on a lark. 
Paint things red. Go to New York. See the ele- 
phant. Oh, you'll know how to pick out a good 
dove, hang it! You understand." 

" But I do not understand, Mr. Mansfield." 
He sat down opposite, crossed his legs, drew his 
eyes to a long narrow line, and looked through the 
slit at me for a moment, with infinite disgust. 
Then he said slowly : 

" What is the use for you to pretend not to know 
what I want of you in this case ? You are no fool. 
You've lived long enough to know that men are all 
alike. What makes me mad is that the little idiot, 
that boy, has come near ruining his health and 
mind just for the need of some good, solid advice 
and a chance. Now I don't care to take him on 
his first round with the doves. He'd be well, I 
suppose I might be a sort of a restraint on the little 
donkey ; and if he goes by himself well, you 
know, he'd most likely get into trouble. He'd 
fall into the hands of some low woman, who'd 
bleed him, or worse. Now if you go with him, you 
can arrange for him to meet a charmer, one that 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 5 

is as green as he is, don't you see, and if he 
took a sort of romantic fancy to her, all the better, 
for a while." lie stopped to take breath. 

"And then?" I asked. "When the romantic 
fancy is over ? " 

" What do you mean ? " he replied, in astonish- 
ment. 

" What is to become of the girl after you have 
made an outcast of her and of your son, after 
you have made a libertine of him ? " I began, but 
he broke in impatiently : 

" Oh, plague take the girl ! What do I care what 
becomes of her ? ' Becomes of her ? ' What always 
becomes of 'em ? They can look out for themselves. 
Libertine ? I don't care how much of a libertine 
Pres. is ; but what I won't stand what makes me 
mad is for him to be a blamed little fool ; " and 
Mr. Mansfield took up his hat, strode out of my 
office, and slammed the door viciously behind him. 

When I pulled myself together, I walked to the 
window just in time to see him turn the corner, on 
his way to a meeting of the school board of 
which he was the honored president the qualifi- 
cations of whose teachers, mental, moral, and other- 
wise, were subject to his requirements. 

The next day I went about my duties, as usual. 
In the afternoon the boy came to my office looking 
almost cheerful, and appeared to be mentally more 
alert than he had been since his return. He had 



6 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

somewhat recovered from his shamefaced manner, 
and said rather brightly : " Doctor, father says you 
are going to travel with me for a while, and that 
we are going to New York. I'm beastly glad of 
that, and " he caught my expression and suddenly 
stopped. I had looked up in blank astonishment 
when he made his first announcement ; but quickly 
decided to rectify any mistake the father had made 
as to the power of his money, when I should see 
that sanguine gentleman himself. I made up my 
mind, also, to find out how much Preston knew of 
the object of the proposed journey, and how far 
his father had seen fit to leave it for me to impart. 

" Why are you so glad to go to New York ? " I 
asked. " I thought you said, the other day, that all 
you wanted was to be let alone and not asked to 
go anywhere or do anything." 

" I did say that," he answered, flushing as he 
recalled the circumstances under which it had 
been said ; " but I'd like to see the girls Alice 
and Nellie. They don't nag a fellow, and besides 
well I want to see Alice, that's all ; " he added 
evasively. 

" Is she your sister, or is Nellie ? " I asked. 

" Both. That is, Nellie is a sort of double cousin ; 
but she's always lived at our house, so we call 
her a sister too. I didn't know that she wasn't a 
real one till last year ; but as she is just my age I 
asked one day why we weren't twins how she 



Ts this your Son, my Lord? 7 

happened to have a birthday in - April and I one in 
May, don't you know ; and then mother told me. I'm 
not sure that Nellie knows yet. I guess she doesn't. 
Mother doesn't want her to and I don't. I guess 
she never thought about that birthday business ; " he 
added, smiling. 

I had come rather to like the young fellow and 
to feel an interest in his future. 

" Preston," I said after a moment's reflection, " I 
did not promise your father to take you to New 
York ; but," his face fell and began to assume 
again the sallow under hue which the flush , of in- 
terest had driven from it for a few moments, " but 
if you would really like to go, and will say so to 
your father, and tell him that I say I will not go 
unless he goes too ; that I will not take all the 
responsibility he wishes to throw upon me, but 
only a part of it; he will understand what I mean, 
and I think he will go. Then I will ; otherwise 
no." 

" All right," said Preston, but his face fell again. 
The boy was beginning to be uncomfortable when 
he thought of his father. He was on the verge of 
realizing that their point of view was not the same, 
and, for the first time, the wonder was dawning upon 
him whether his father was just the man he had 
taken him to be ; and the wonder was accompanied 
by a distinct shock of fear, the source of which 
was, as yet, unrecognized by the lad himself. 



8 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

" Yes, Preston," I said when I dismissed him, 
" tell your father that I have agreed to go, on the 
condition that he accompanies us. Tell him I have 
an important reason for this. And, by the way, 
Preston, don't write to the girls, your sisters. 
Suppose we walk in on them unexpectedly at 
what school did you say they are attending?" 

He gave me the name of a fashionable school in 
the city where many of the daughters of wealthy 
Western families are " finished," and went away 
perceptibly brightened by the idea that he would 
create a sensation by appearing to the two girls 
quite unexpectedly, a few days later, when they 
were waiting anxiously to hear from their sick 
brother hundreds of miles away. 

On our way to New York I found, in the few 
opportunities I had to talk alone with Mr. Mansfield, 
that he had told the boy nothing of his plan ; but 
depended wholly upon me to bring about what he 
desired, in a manner which should seem to Preston 
to be of his own motion. 

"Take him to some variety show, or any place 
where he can see good-looking girls ;" he said. " If 
he hints that he is interested, or likes the looks of 
one of them better than the others, find out who she 
is, and, by Jove, doctor, money will fetch her." 

" Suppose it doesn't ? " said I. 

He looked at me for a moment, half in scorn and 
half in suspicion. "You arrange a meeting with 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 9 

me, if you are so squeamish. I guess Pres. won't find 
a great deal of trouble with her after that. You 
see that she is pretty, young, and if possible, doctor, 
be absolutely sure that she is, that she has, that 
this is her first experience. Oh, damn it, you know 
what I want ! " He paused for a moment, then 
got up, and, as he started for the smoking car, 
said : " You see to that part. Find out, if you 
can, who and what she is, and that she is, 
that she is all right. . Arrange a meeting with 
me, on some pretext or other, if she is too skittish 
or too smart for you. That's all I want of you 
in the matter. After that you can take Pres. to 
see her, and oh, show the little fool the elephant 
generally ! Initiate him. Take him around. Get 
him interested. Report progress to me. I'll foot 
the bills." 

Two days after we reached New York, I called 
at Mr. Mansfield's hotel. He had made excuse to 
Preston that he had to go to Boston, and left us the 
night we arrived. I informed him that I had 
taken his son to several places of amusement, and 
that while we were at the Casino matinee he had 
turned to me and expressed a strong desire to go 
nearer to a certain young girl whom he saw across 
the house. I had succeeded in so placing him that 
he had an opportunity to spe? 1 ; to her as she was 
going out, and he had evidently taken a very great 
pleasure in the meeting. 



10 Is this your Son, my 

Mr. Mansfield was delighted and told me to follow 
it up steadily. Shortly thereafter I was able to re- 
port progress again. Preston had bought her a bunch 
of flowers one day. Another day he had gone with 
her to a store. I had learned that she was of unim- 
peachable character, very pretty, and not very self 
controlled. I made a point of this latter fact and of 
her youth and unsuspecting character. 

" She is a girl who would be easily led into temp- 
tation by one she cared for, or frightened into 
subjection by an older person ; " I added. He 
smiled, and his eyes twinkled merrily. 

" She is with Preston now. We got her to go 
into the hotel to see some pictures he had bought. 
She seems to go about a good deal alone. We met 
her in Broadway twice yesterday. She says she is 
here with an aunt who is ill, and that her sister who 
usually goes out with her has a swollen face, so she 
goes alone now. Oh, yes, she is all right ; " I said 
in answer to his shrug. " I have made quite sure 
of that ; but I tell you frankly, I believe that Preston 
will be as polite and reserved with her as if his 
mother were present. He will make no headway 
with her in the way you desire, I am sure of that, 
now I have watched him." 

" Oh," he exclaimed, delighted, " if she is at the 
hotel, it is easy enough. I'll meet her as she comes 
out. I'll play the outraged parent act. I'll threaten 
to ruin her reputation. I'll oh, it is plain enough 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 11 

sailing now. But how did you ever get that sort of 
a girl to go into the hotel and to his parlor ? But 
hurry, we must get there. She may think how it 
will look, and leave. Lord ! what a fool she must 
be ! And Pres., what a fool he is that he should need 
us now ! " 

He was so excited that he did not press me for 
replies and we hastened to the hotel. I entered 
the private parlor which opened into my room. It 
was empty. Mr. Mansfield winked at me and took 
a seat, motioning me to go into my own room, which 
I did, passing on into the one used by the boy. 
Presently I returned and said : " She will be out at 
once ; as soon as she gets her hat on, and but I 
tell you, Mansfield, I don't like this business and 

" Oh ! " said he, significantly, pushing aside my 
last remark, " had her hat off, hey ? " 

" Yes," I said, " and what is more, Preston had 
his arm around her." 

" Ha, ha, ha," laughed he, in an undertone ; " the 
young scamp isn't such a hopeless dunce as he 
looks, is he? Had his arm around her, did he? 
Chip of the old block yet ! Gad, doctor, I guess 
we've made a bad blunder in his case. He's all 
right. Give him a chance, that's all." 

Just then a ^mall, stylishly dressed girl appeared 
at the inner door. She had drawn a thick veil 
over her face. She entered slowly, and bowed, 
but said nothing. Mr. Mansfield stepped briskly 



12 Js this your Son, my Lord? 

forward, bowed, offered her a chair, and in closing 
the door behind her, touched her shoulder as if by 
accident, and apologized effusively. 

The girl, who appeared to be struggling with 
some emotion, silently took the chair, and waited 
for us to speak. Presently Mr. Mansfield said : 
" Had you ever met my son, before he saw you at 
the Casino ? Did he know you when he was here 
at school ? " 

There was a light laugh, quickly suppressed, and 
she nodded her head. 

" So ho ! an old flame ! " said he. " Oh, well, 
then it is all right if " and here he turned to 
me, and made an inquiry under his breath. 

"Do not ask her that," said I, hastily, and in 
the same suppressed tone. " Wait. See her face 
first. Let me go to Preston's room, and you can 
talk to her better ; but first of all, make her take 
off her veil. You will see her innocence in her 
face." 

" You bet I will," he said ; I'll take it off myself, 
and kiss her too, if she is pretty, before you fairly 
get the door shut." Then aloud, to me, " Sorry you 
must go, doctor, but I will join you in Pres.'s room, 
before long." 

But as I opened the door, the boy bounded in 
with a laugh, and then suddenly stopped, as he saw 
that the girl had not removed her veil. I could 
endure the situation no longer. I closed the door, 



Is this your /Son, my Lord? 13 

and reaching over slipped the veil from her hat. 
She hastily clapped both hands to her face, with a 
little cry : " Oh, how mean ! Why, Pres., you gave 
me away. Papa hadn't guessed who I was yet. 
And he oh, papa, 'had I ever met Pres. before 
the other day at the Casino ' ? ha, ha, ha." 

Mr. Mansfield was white with rage, and the 
shock was so great that he staggered, and sat down 
suddenly in the nearest chair. He was so over- 
come, for the moment, that he did not remember to 
visit his wrath upon me, and I silently withdrew 
before he recovered himself, and while the two 
children were still enjoying the excellent joke they 
thought we had played on their unsuspecting 
father. 

That night, I wrote him a note, saying that I 
should not see him again while in New York, and 
that I now resigned to him his son's future training 
in the direction he had mapped out. 

"I have called your attention to what it may 
mean from the other side what it must mean to 
some girl, and to her father, if she has one if 
your programme is carried out. If she has no 
father, so much the worse.". I ended my letter 
thus : " My part is done. Allow me to say, that the 
boy will recover from his great mistake, if he is 
intelligently treated. As yet, to him, there is no 
moral question involved. I have talked with him. 
He now understands the folly, the physical, and 



14 Is this your /Son, my 

mental danger of his course. He is not my son ; 
but if you if anyone were to take with a boy 
of mine the course which you propose to take 
with Preston, I should kill the man who tried it; 
that is all. I have written to the boy that I am 
called home unexpectedly. Remember, that upon 
your return, any unpleasant conduct toward me I 
shall resent to the utmost." 



Js this your Son, my Lord? ' 15 



CHAPTER II. 

" Sirs, 'tis my occupation to be plain: 
I have seen better faces In my time, 
Than stands on any shoulders that I see 
Before me at this Instant." Shakespeare. 

" Such wanton, wild and usual slips, 
As are companions noted and most known 
To youth and liberty." Ibid, 

"When I reached my home in the West, I found 
a message which called me to the bedside of my 
wife's mother, then in Southern France, and I did 
not return to America for nearly five years. 

I had not been many weeks in New York, when 
I met one day in Broadway a fashionably dressed, 
rather dissipated looking young man, whose face 
and bearing showed many marks of a fast life. He 
recognized me and lifted his hat. It was Preston 
Mansfield. 

" Why, what are you doing here, Preston ? " I 
asked. 

" Following my respected father's advice," he 
replied scornfully, " Gad, how he hated you ! He 
told me what the little scheme was afterward. 
Poor little Alice ! she never so much as suspected 
anything wrong. She thought the old man was 
sick and blamed herself for helping to play a joke 
that startled him. He had to cool down and pre- 
tend that that was it. She actually bathed his feet 



16 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

in mustard water, put him to bed, and sat up with 
him nearly all that night;" and he laughed de- 
lightedly. 

" No danger of corrupting your morals now, 
you bifurcated young beast," thought I ; but I said 
aloud : 

" Where is your father ? Here ? " 

" Well, hardly ; " he drawled, " the governor 
passed in his little checks over a year ago. I'm 
head of the family now, and when I'm at home I 
do the Board of Education racket, and cut off a big 
slice of staid and respectable citizen business. I 
haven't' quite got the gall to go into the deacon act 
yet; but I'll get there. It paid the old man, big, 
and I'm a chip of the old block nowadays, I do 
assure you, doctor. He broke me in thoroughly, 
after he made up his mind to it, and found he 
couldn't trust you " ; and he went off into a fit of 
laughter. As soon as he recovered himself, he 
rattled on : 

" But what an infernal game that was you played 
on the old man, any way. I believe he'd have 
killed you if he'd had you that night and if he 
could have got rid of Alice long enough. What 
did you do it for, any way, doctor ? Now, between 
man and man, what was your little game ? More 
money ? " 

I looked at the hopeless young rascal for a 
moment and then said : 



Is this your /Son, my Lord? 17 

"You are a chip of the old block, Preston. 
Good afternoon." 

As I walked away I heard him exclaim under his 
breath, 

" Well, I'll be damned ! " 

" No doubt of it, my boy, no sort of doubt about 
it ; " said young Harmon, with a twinkle in his 
handsome eyes, as he received Preston Mansfield 
in his arms after that astonished young gentleman 
had watched me turn the corner of Twenty-third 
Street, and was about to start on his way again. 
" Of course you'll be damned in time, my boy, but 
what's the use in standing here in front of the 
Fifth Avenue Hotel, in broad daylight, in the 
year of our blessed Lord, 1880, and telling people 
about it in cold blood ? " Both of the young men 
laughed and started for the Hoffman House bar, 
quite as a matter of course, and not at all because 
either of them wanted anything to drink. 

" What were you standing there for, glaring at 
that precious old muff's back and making remarks 
about your future abode, when I ran into you ? " 
asked young Harmon, expecting and waiting for 
no reply. " What will you take ? " and he leaned 
familiarly on the bar and made a signal to a waiter. 
When the drinks were concocted, he went through 
a great show of testing their quality, wiped his lips 
daintily with a fine cambric handkerchief and set 
his glass down with a resignedly superior air as if 



18 Is this your Son, my- Lord? 

to say : " This is really not the sort of stuff a gen- 
tleman accustomed to the best of everything can 
quite bring himself to drink ; but no matter. It 
is not of sufficient importance for me to take the 
trouble to speak about -it and, indeed, it is doubtful 
if these vulgarians could comprehend me if I did. v 
"While the inside fact was that the young fellow's 
healthy stomach loathed strong drinks of all kinds, 
and he had schooled himself with patient care to be 
able to hold up his end as he phrased it, and retain 
his proud place as one of the leaders of the fast set at 
Harvard. Nothing gave him greater pride in him- 
self than the belief that his ready pronuncia- 
tion of the names of wines and liqueurs ; his test 
movement of lips and throat to indicate perfect 
familiarity with, and infallible judgment of their 
quality, would convince even the most sceptical 
that he was a man of the world, of the fastidious, 
rapid world which keeps its church pew, its English 
cob, and its opera box quite as a matter of course, 
and no less as a matter of course, frequents the 
Parker House and the " Parsonage " to indulge in 
Welsh rarebit, stimulants, and green-room gossip 
at 2 o'clock A. M. ; that externally immaculate, cul- 
tured world which knows more or less of mixed 
companies of women who smoke and men who drink 
until daylight warns them that professors growl if 
lessons are shirked and stage managers storm if 
eyes are dull at morning rehearsal. 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 19 

Preston Mansfield had left college, finally, a 
year before, where even his lavish expenditure of 
money could not blind outsiders to the fact that he 
was learning next to nothing of those branches 
for the teaching of which colleges are commonly 
supposed to be sustained, and that he cared to 
learn no more. The authorities, therefore, with 
elaborate display of virtuous disapproval, advised 
him not to return. Nothing could have more fully 
harmonized with his own wishes, and he promptly 
transferred his headquarters from Boston to New 
York, and left Mr. Fred Harmon to take his place 
as leader of the " fast set." Notwithstanding the fact 
that that young gentleman's supply of cash was far 
from limitless, he prided himself greatly because 
he had, in one short year, been the means of elevat- 
ing the tone of their debauches to a plane upon 
which gentlemen should conduct such matters. 
That is to say, they all gambled, of course, but 
they did not talk about it openly a great deal, even 
among themselves ; they continued to give suppers 
at which* there were hardly enough sober ones to 
get the drunken ones home, and where those who 
kept their legs and senses wished it distinctly 
understood that they did it not at all because 
they drank less, but solely because, being so 
accustomed to it, the ability to be overcome had 
long since been outgrown and they, therefore, 
chaffed quite unmercifully the poor callow fellows 



20 Is this your /Son, my Lord? 

who were still unable to "carry a few bottles" 
of wine. 

These deeply experienced youths were naturally 
the admiration and envy of those whose capacity 
still had its limits, and in whom Nature continued 
to assert herself when the verge of endurance was 
reached. They deceived young girls into com- 
promising situations and patronized women as of 
old ; but it was Mr. Fred Harmon's firm belief 
that this was all done in so delicate a manner that 
no one could object; and he, for his part, felt quite 
dainty and looked down with something akin to 
virtuous pity and scorn upon the crude, if not im- 
moral, practices of his predecessor and friend, 
Preston Mansfield. 

Mr. Fred Harmon had no doubt whatever that 
he was a fit associate and a most desirable husband 
for the sweetest, purest young girl in the world, 
and he had heard with deep disgust, Mansfield's 
remark one day, when they had chanced to meet 
Nellie on the street. 

" Gad, Fred, I wonder if there ever was a man 
good enough to many that girl ! I'd give half of 
all the years of life left to me to be able to go to 
her, and feel myself fit to ask her to marry me." 

Fred Harmon had no qualms of conscience on 
that score ; and indeed, in many ways he felt him- 
self on quite a different plane from that which 
naturally belonged to Mansfield, who had not had 



Js this your /Son, my Lord? 21 

the good taste to connect himself with any fashion- 
able church while he was at college, and had fre- 
quently laughed outright at statements made by 
Dr. Highchurch in his doctrinal sermons. 

"Mansfield has no sense of convention. He is 
destitute of traditions," Harmon would explain ; 
" and then he. clings to prejudices like a Hottentot. 
The night I took him to call upon Dr. Highchurch, 
he actually took issue with the Divine on the doc- 
trines of original sin and vicarious atonement ; and 
argued about it as if they were matters of vital 
importance. He is really very difficult, don't you 
know ? " Fred Harmon liked to use that expression. 
The first time he had heard it, it had been used by 
the most correct Englishman he had ever met, 
and of course, a really correct Englishman was 
beyond comparison the most perfect specimen of 
good form to be found on this earth. 

" He is a good fellow, in the main ; first-rate 
fellow, don't you know ? but, well, you know his 
father was a sort of made his shekels in lumber 
or something of the kind, and his son's life and 
training in the wild and woolly west naturally 
makes one a little shy of going about with him a 
great deal." 

When Mr. Fred Harmon said this he did not mean 
it to apply to hours between 12 midnight and 5 A. 
M., during which portions of the day or night he 
had never exhibited the least shyness or disinclina- 



22 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

tion to go about, as he phrased it, in company with 
Preston Mansfield, and many a night they had 
made of it. The " prejudices " of which he spoke 
as among the fatal weaknesses of Preston Mans- 
field's character, were displayed by such silly and 
threadbare remarks as the one about wishing him- 
self good enough to marry his cousin Nellie. 

" Such a cad ! " said Harmon to himself, as he 
thought of it afterward : " Such an idiotic, senti- 
mental, narrow minded cad ! As if he'd have to 
tell her about his little sports." 

And it was certain that no one would ever have 
cause to complain of similar prejudices in the mind 
of Mr. Fred Harmon. His creed was short and 
clear. " Do what you want to," it said ; " but do 
it secretly, if it is not strictly in accord with what 
the rules of polite society pretend to demand. 
We all know it is a pretence, and we have rather a 
hard time to keep our faces straight when we pub- 
licly look into one another's eyes and talk our 
conventional platitudes ; but it must be done for 
the edification of the common people and to con- 
serve tradition, of course. The decencies of life 
must be maintained." 

By the decencies of life Mr. Fred Harmon did 
not at all mean that one's actions must be honorable 
and open, one's motives lofty, and one's record 
clean. The demand for these old-fashioned virtues 
where they did not touch money matters he 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 28 

ranked as prejudices ; but he did demand as the 
first requisite of a gentleman, that his coat of pre- 
tence should be fur-lined, water-proof, and silk- 
stitched. He had no doubt that he should marry, 
one of these days, some lovely girl ; indeed, he was 
now a victim of the grand passion, he assured 
himself ; but he had not thought of such a ridiculous 
thing as a desire to have his whole life and nature 
an open book to the girl he loved. It gave him 
no qualms at all to pose and pretend to her as to 
everyone else. So long as she did not discover 
anything that would cause her to ask disconcerting 
questions, he had no prejudice whatever in favor 
of laying bare his soul and making her a partner in 
all of his life. Indeed, he would have thought it 
a very unwomanly thing for her to expect anything 
of the kind ; and if she were to show a tendency 
toward such unwholesome notions of what was due 
to women, he had no doubt that he could bring her 
to her senses easily enough ; and as he was quite 
content to keep certain corners of his life wholly to 
himself and to shut up a few of the rooms, not only 
of the past but of the present and future as well, 
and keep the keys in his own possession, he felt 
perfectly secure, and therefore entirely virtuous. 

No one could love a woman more fondly, of 
course ; no one could respect her more truly ; but it 
was not a part of his creed that perfect love carried 
with it a " prejudice, " in favor of perfect truth ; 



24 Is this your /Son, my Lord? 

and as to respect, surely it was far greater evidence 
of respect for a woman, to hide from her what she 
would not like in your character and life, than to 
hurt her feelings by letting her know it ! He 
hoped that he had too much real respect for his 
betrothed, and for womanhood in general, an .1 
that he would always retain too exalted an opinion 
of his wife ever to tell her the bald truth, or even 
let her so much as suspect it, either as it related to 
life in general, or to his life in particular. 

In short, he had absolutely no prejudice in favor 
of facts where fiction was so much prettier, and 
more truly suited to a woman's life, and to a 
gentleman's vocabulary. Indeed, he had glossed 
over and dressed up ugly or inconvenient, truths 
ever since he was able to talk. His training 
had all been in that direction. His charming 
mother, whose ambition was always to appear well, 
and to have her son do nothing that " they" 
meaning that social world she stood in awe of, 
would not understand at once and pronounce "good 
form, " had begun this training at a very early age ; 
so that at the present time, Fred was not at all 
conscious of the least moral weakness on his own 
part, nor of a shadow of cause for shame. 

Public censure for any act of his would have 
overwhelmed him with mortification, and covered 
his mother with humiliation and anger; but that 
insidious foe of personal comfort, the loss of one's 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 25 

own respect and approbation, had never attacked 
Fred Harmon, nor was such a calamity ever likely to 
overtake him. His conscience was absolutely easy. 
If there existed cause for him to blush, he was 
not aware of it. Had he not been taught in early 
childhood to suppress the least hint of an inclination 
to deviate from the paths of " good form "? And 
was not " good form " the only reliable moral stan- 
dard? 

He could remember having had certain scanda- 
lous little desires to play marbles with the grocer's 
boy, and to fight with the son of a butcher's cart 
driver ; but he knew full well that, in giving the 
account of these exploits, it would be necessary to 
present his companions to his mother in the guise 
of " Judge Supurb's youngest," or as " Father High- 
church's nephew." Then his mother was satisfied. 
She would a little rather that he would let them 
get the best of it, too, about half of the time, because 
in that case no hard feelings could ensue on the 
part of the Judge and the Father if they found it 
out, and it would be quite a humorous bit to touch 
up daintily when they met. 

When Fred was in his third year at college, one 
of the seniors had invited him to spend a part of 
the coming vacation at his home in the West, and 
in talking it over, his mother had said : " Certainly, 
my son, you may accept the invitation. It is Mr. 
Ball's last term and he could not ask you to take 



26 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

him to call on any of our friends more than once 
in that time, and you could make some reasonable 
way out of it then. Go, by all means, dearie, and 
have a happy time. It will do you good. You are 
not looking your best. This may be the very change 
you need, and you can take it in the way of an ex- 
perience. No doubt they are very honest, well- 
meaning people, in their way." 

It was while on this visit that Fred met Maude 
Stone, and fell in love with her, thereby causing his 
mother to revise her views as to the honesty and 
well-meaning characteristics of those Western bar- 
barians. During Fred's first year at Harvard, he 
had shown some symptoms of a lapse from the 
worship of Father Highchurch (whose social posi- 
tion was enviable in the extreme), and his mother 
had sighed deeply, and met his arguments with a 
sweetness and force which seemed to him at the 
time charming and final. 

" Certainly, my son, all you say is quite true. I 
do not, myself, believe in those unpleasing religious 
notions expressed in the creed of our beloved church. 
You must remember that the progressive Church- 
men explain them all quite satisfactorily. The 
ethical beauty and exquisite taste of Dr. Broad- 
church's explanation of the crucifixion, you surely 
have not forgotten. I cannot reproduce it, of 
course, but I know it was most charming. My 
nerves were soothed and my artistic nature warmed 



1s this your Son, my Lord? 27 

for days afterward. Ask him, some day, to explain 
these points about the vicarious atonement theory, 
as you call, it (quite vulgarly, I think. You must 
have gotten that form of expression from young 
Ball. Be very careful not to use it again). Give 
up looking at it in this literal way, and accept it as 
the Broadchurchmen hold it, if you cannot take the 
High Church view. Its justice and harmony with 
natural laws ; its appeal to one's higher nature and 
ideals ; its display of tenderness, are all quite a poem 
as Dr. Broadchurch presents it. You can close 
your eyes and drift into a realm of spiritual exalta- 
tion where questions and doubts are impossible; 
where the dear Christ touches your heart and illu- 
mines your understanding. Don't ask your questions 
in that pointed way, however, my son. That is 
don't be so a a direct. Come at the point less 
baldly. Language should be draped to a certain 
extent when used to express spiritual things. Have 
you been reading authorities on style as much as 
usual lately? Never allow a day to pass without 
doing so, dear. Newspapers are so demoralizing 
that even you show the effect of having read them. 
It seems a dreadful thing to say of you ; but 1 am 
afraid it is true. Be so very careful about it, my 
son. 

" Yes, I know, young Ball is very clever, after a 
fashion : but he gives one the impression of absolute 
nudity, mentally speaking. He is very bad form, 



28 7s this your Son, my Lord? 

poor fellow. His bearing proves him not well born. 
What a shame that he should be an ' honor ' man 
and that Edward Highchurch, with his, exquisite 
polish, should not. But of course every one will 
understand it. It is brute force against grace and 
refinement. I suppose, on examination, Mr. Ball 
answered the questions and wrote his thesis with 
a directness and force that struck the professors 
like a trapeze performer shot directly at them from 
a catapult ; while Eddie made some effort to clothe 
the hard facts of science in a garb, of poetry, and 
the result was a lack of appreciation on the part of 
the busy professors who found the short cuts of 
Mr. Ball far easier to follow. But, as I say, no 
one is deceived as to the desirability of the two 
methods ; nor, for that matter, as to the attainments 
of the two men." 

She wanted her son to take the theological 
course; but she yielded readily enough to his 
desire to look about for a year or two after he 
was graduated before he should make a final choice 
of a profession. 

" You say you do not believe the creeds and 
doctrines ;" she had said. " Of course, you do 
not in that literal sense, but there is an interpre- 
tative meaning, in which you can accept them, and 
be a clergyman in the dear old Mother Church, after 
all. If you really cannot bring yourself to be a 
Highchurch man, I am willing for you to follow the 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 29 

Broad church men. Look at Dr. Phillips Brooks 
and the Rev. Heber Newton. Very different 
they are from each other ; but both explain all 
those points you object to so entirely away, and 
in such choice language that the most fastidious 
can not fail to be satisfied. And then, always 
remember, my son, that the social position of 
the rector of a large parish is absolutely assured. 
There is no question. A great lawyer may or may 
not have an assured place. A distinguished physi- 
cian's niche is open to question ; but the rector of a 
fashionable parish stands firm on the top of the 
social edifice, in virtue of that fact alone. You can- 
not fail to see the enormous advantage this would 
be. Think it all well over, dear, before you allow 
yourself to drift too far, or commit yourself to any 
other position than one consistent with a final ref- 
uge in the bosom of the Church and as a ministrant 
at her holy altar." 

Shortly after this she wrote to a friend : " You 
will know how delighted I am, and how thankful 
that Fred, the dear noble fellow, has about decided 
to give over his fancy for the law, or any other 
secular career, and devote his really exceptional 
talents to the uplifting of his fellowmen. From 
your point of view I can readily see how you 
advised the law, and if he were going to live for 
himself alone, you would be right no doubt, my 
dear. But his life is for others ; his aim in the 



30 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

world is to devote his splendid gifts to the service 
of mankind ; and my gratitude is deep and keen 
that he has about decided to give his whole energy 
to the service of God and our blessed Church. Con- 
gratulate me, dear, even though you do not believe 
as I do. Surely you can be a wee bit glad when 
my heart sings within me for very joy." 



Is this your /Son, my Lord? 31 



CHAPTER III. 

" The wise sometimes from wisdom's ways depart; 
Can youth, then, hush the mandates of the heart 1" Byron. 

" What mortal is there of us, who would find his satisfaction enhanced 
fry %J opportunity cf comparing the picture he presents to himself of his 
OV>TI t.'r<ngs, with the picture they make on the mental retina of his neigh- 
bor. "* Geo. Eliot. 

So > as Mr. Fred Harmon leaned against the 
Hoffinan House bar that day, while his less gifted 
and iowborn friend Mansfield drank with a relish, 
while be assumed to look with deep disapprobation 
upon the quality of the potation, Preston Mansfield 
said : 

" Been in town long, Harmon ? Hear you've 
decided to go into the ' Good Lord deliver us,' busi- 
ness." He glanced significantly at the full glass 
by Fred's elbow. " Suppose you've cut this sort of 
thing and poker and the girls for good, then ; but, 
by gad, I'll bet a shilling, Harmon, that you cut 
your sleeve full of trumps on the last deal, with 
all of 'em ; " and he winked and laughed at his 
friend in what Mr. Fred Harmon felt to be a most 
objectionable manner. He disliked to have people 
take mental photographs when the background 
was not properly arranged to produce artistic 
effects. At the same time he did not feel equal to 
allowing any young man about town to think he 



32 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

was a muff. It may be looked upon as strange, 
but it is nevertheless true, that no sense of shame 
is more deep than that which results from a fear 
that any man should suppose that you are unable 
to hold up your end, as Fred would have phrased it ; 
which, being freely translated, meant that he could 
not bear the humiliation of having any other man 
suppose that he knew more by practical experience 
of those conditions of life, which are not usually 
mentioned in the presence of ladies, than were 
familiar to Mr. Fred Harmon himself. Therefore, 
he smiled knowingly, glanced about him with an 
air of deep weariness, as if to say, " I am beastly 
tired of all this sort of thing, don't you know. And 
what a barbaric hole this hostelry is." He had 
heard several Boston men say that; he knew it was 
the thing expected of the cultured elect. The fact 
was, however, that this was the third or fourth time 
he had ever been within these gorgeous pre- 
cincts, and he was exceedingly interested in, and 
curious to examine its appointments. But to do 
this openly would be a confession to all present 
that he was not in the habit of drinking himself to 
the verge of gentlemanly inebriety within its 
hospitable walls, and Fred did not feel quite equal 
to that bit of heroism. So he smiled wearily, and 
said with a drawl : 

" Well, not exactly, my boy, there is more or less 
blood left in me yet. Suppose we dine in this 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 33 

bizarre caravansary, if it won't take your appetite. 
Isn't it enough to make one despair of the human 
race ? Such taste ! What are you going to do to- 
night ? How would you like to take in one or two 
of the political speeches, just to see the free and in- 
dependent voter roped in, and observe the kind of 
oratory that does the business and then make a 
night of it? What do you say? Know any good 
places to go? Tired of the theatres. Stupid lot 
of heroics on now. Passion in tatters ; virtue its 
own reward (and it doesn't get any other, I must 
say ) and all that sort of thing. Wonder if the 
stage will ever learn anything ? " and he strolled to 
a table in the cafe, and began to order a dinner. 

As they passed the speaker's stand in Union 
Square, two hours later, one of -the leading politi- 
cians of the day was making an impassioned appeal 
to the Germans not to allow themselves to be 
hoodwinked by the mendacious Democratic bids for 
their votes. The two young men stopped to listen. 

" Why, gentlemen," the speaker was saying indig- 
nantly, " the very terms in which they appeal to 
you are an insult to every man in whose veins runs 
one drop of the blood of the nation which leads 
the civilized world to-day ! " There was a move- 
ment of expectation and applause. Fred Harmon 
smiled at Mansfield and said : " This is good. Bet- 
ter than a dime museum. Wouldn't have missed it 
for a fortune. There he goes again. Now just 



34 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

watch the gentle Teuton swallow that bare hook 
and take in a large share of the line." 

" How does the Democratic party invariably ap- 
proach you ? " exclaimed the irate orator, almost 
choking with excess of emotion. "What does it 
say to you ? How does it judge you ? What 
is the standard by which it measures the g-r-e-a-t 
German people? Always by the one standard 
beer ! " The orator, too much choked by his 
indignation to proceed, paused with his arm up- 
lifted and a deep frown upon his brow. There 
was a round of applause and a ripple of laughter. 

" Do not laugh ! " exclaimed the speaker. " It is 
true ! It is the s-h-a-m-e-f-u-l truth ! And it is 
the duty, as I am sure it will be the pleasure, of 
every self-respecting German, who knows, as all of 
you know, the magnificent history of the most 
magnificent people on this globe " (great applause 
and cheers), to resent it at the polls ! What does 
the Democratic party know of Germany, or the 
Germans? Nothing but beer! What does it 
know of German history? Nothing, except that it 
has heard that in that far-off country they drink 
beer ! 

" They have the impudence to expect to catch 
your votes by telling you that we, the Republicans, 
are not friendly to your breweries, that we are for 
high license, that we, the Republicans, are not 
friendly to the Germans because Why? WHY ?" he 



Is this your Son, my Lord? . 35 

demanded in a perfect transport of virtuous 
indignation. Then he went on, his voice tremulous 
with suppressed scorn : " Why, indeed ! Simply 
and solely, my friends, because ice do not agree 
with them that all the German cares for, that all 
he knows about, that all he wants, that all he 
dreams of is beer ! " 

There was a decided sensation in the crowd, 
and some evidences of righteous wrath on the part 
of several rotund and red-faced gentlemen near the 
stand, at so low an estimate of the German 
character. The speaker's indignation waxed deeper, 
and his voice swelled out in triumphant tones. 

" They forget, gentlemen, that every one of you 
knows the glorious, the unrivalled position that 
Germany holds in Art, in which she leads the 
civilized w-o-r-l-d ! In Science, in which she leads 
the civilized w-o-r-l-d ! In literature, in which, 
with the finest encyclopedia known to man, with 
her Von Humboldt, her Goethe, and her Schiller, 
she leads the civilized w-o-r-l-d ! They forget, 
gentlemen, that Germany and the Germans think 
more of these then they do of beer! 

" They have the brazen effrontery to insult the 
representatives of a land which produced a Wag- 
ner, by talking to them eternally about beer ! " 

Great sensation, wild applause. Indignant men 
who never before heard of Von Humboldt, and 
were uncertain where Goethe's brewery was sit- 



1 



36 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

uated, glared at their neighbors in a way that 
boded no good to the Democratic nominee. The 
orator saw his advantage and went rapidly on : 
" Which party honors you the most ? Which 
party is most likely to deal fairly with yon, the one 
that cannot think of you apart from beer, or the 
one whose leaders extol your unapproachable poets, 
revere your unequalled savans, and worship your 
incomparable musicians to such an extent that they 
have given very little thought to the grosser a 
ah to the er incidents, as it were, of a cer- 
tain phase of your national life? Which, I say, 
gentlemen, do you prefer, the party that gives you 
nothing from morning till night but beer ? dr 
the one that proposes to give you, is able to give 
you, and now offers you unlimited " 

" Taffy!" yelled Preston Mansfield, and the 
laugh that followed was at the orator's expense. 

" Beer ! Beer ! " shouted a dozen voices. 

Taffy's too sweet." 

" Give us a rest ! " 

"Beer, beer, Milwaukee beer;" shouted some 
one to the tune of " Rum, rum, Jamaica rum," and 
the tune caught the fancy of the crowd which pro- 
ceeded to yell itself hoarse and thereby cover the 
speaker still farther with confusion. He sat down 
amidst uproarious laughter, while Preston and 
young Harmon, chuckling to themselves, stepped 
into a cab and drove rapidly away. 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 37 

They were both Republicans, but they enjoyed 
the joke, and were in excellent spirits and on the 
best of terms with themselves all the rest of the 
evening. 

That night, or rather the following morning, 
when Fred Harmon reached his hotel he found a 
letter from his mother, whose theory was that 
Maude Stone, the sweetheart he had found in the 
West, and her father, were making a violent at- 
tempt to ensnare the young and tender feet of her 
son. " Be careful to give neither her nor her 
designing father, any hold upon you in writing; 
then they can have none whatever upon you, either 
in law or equity, and any talk which may have 
passed falls to the ground without harming you. 
. The girl can have no proper respect for her- 
self, and your whole life would be utterly ruined 
by such an alliance in any permanent way. . . 
The only time I ever saw the girl she showed that 
she had no respect for herself, and therefore none 
for you. She allowed you to keep your hat on 
out on the porch steps, you remember, and she 
was dressed in evening toilet! When I spoke 
of it to you afterward you said she did not care, 
that she felt like standing with bare arms in the 
cool air for a while ; but was willing for you to keep 
your head covered if you felt chilly, and if you 
wanted to. What sort of self respect is that? 
What can such a girl think of herself ? Look at 



38 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

it reasonably, my son, and mount to a true man's 
ideal of the stainlessness and dignity of a woman 
of what she must be who can hold the admira- 
tion and homage of husband and sons through 
a lifetime, and give no farther thought to the 
matter. . . . You are too sensitive by f""- 
Xo conceivable compromise of the girl holds you 
to anything. . . . Have no words in writing and 
you are all right. If her father storms as of 
course he will, in the hope of capturing such a 
matchless prize for his daughter do not yield 
by one hair's breadth." 

Indeed, Fred's mother held the conventional 
opinion that it was the duty of a young girl to 
form and maintain, not only her own character and 
basis of action, but that she must hold her lover to 
a given line of conduct, failing which he was privi- 
leged to take advantage of her love and confidence, 
with no shame whatever to himself. 

If he were not a gentleman, it was her fault. If 
he took advantage of her tenderness and con- 
fidence in him, it was her fault. If he swore to 
her by all that was holy, and she believed him, and 
acted upon his word, and the results were dis- 
astrous, it was her fault. In short, her son's stand- 
ard of action toward the girl might be the limit of 
possibility, and there was nothing to make him 
blush ; but the girl must be too wise, too firm, too well 
poised, too immaculate either to make a single mis- 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 39 

take herself, or to " allow " him to make one in her 
presence. 

The one whom Mrs~. Harmon was pleased to look 
upon as the weaker and less perfect vessel, must 
fail in nothing, while her son's standard of manli- 
ness, of rectitude, of honor, for himself, might have 
its limit only where possibility of accomplishment 
ended. In short, Fred was aware that his mother 
looked upon marriage as a sort of reform school 
for men. Notwithstanding this fact, Fred had read 
her letter with some displeasure. He was not yet 
willing to give Maude Stone up, albeit he was not 
unmindful of the great truths so forcefully set 
forth by his mother, and he tried to look down the 
vistas of time to see whether Maude would be able 
to retain his full respect and devotion ; and truth 
to tell, he had his misgivings. She certainly did 
lack finish, and she had allowed him to be very 
familiar with her, indeed. And well, he would 
think it over very seriously before he married her. 

Meantime, he wrote a note to Maude who was 
visiting her aunt in Brooklyn : " I have slipped 
over to New York for just one day to see, you ; " 
he wrote. " How long are you going to stay at 
your aunt's ? When do you go back West ? Is 
your father here? I have a thousand things to 
ask you. Can you take a walk with me to-night? 
The moonlight is glorious on the bridge. I hate 
the house such nights. A stuffy city house would 



40 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

not seem like the cosy library or breezy parlor at 
your pretty home out West. It would spoil the illu- 
sion. ... If willing to go to-night, go to the corner 
room at nine o'clock, light the gas, letting it burn 
dimly, pull down all the window shades, except 
that nearest the corner and leave it to within a foot 
of the window sill. ..." "What a comical thing 
to do," thought Maude, when she read the note ; 
" sort of telegraphic communication by window 
shade line," and she laughed at the idea. But her 
heart beat wildly, for had not Fred come over 
from Boston the moment he knew she was here ! 
And she was to have a walk with him in the moon- 
light ! It would be ever so much nicer than to stay 
in the house. She did not think that her aunt 
would care, only dear Fred always had said that 
auntie did not like him, and no doubt that was the 
reason he wanted her to slip out, so that their first 
meeting might not be spoiled after so long a separa- 
tion, by even the cloud of her aunt's mild dislike. 
Anyway she would go with Fred. He was always so 
" proper," as she called it, and he would not ask her 
to do anything if it were not all right. He knew far 
better than she how to make things easy, and what 
was best. She would go. So after dinner Maude 
went to the corner room. She pulled all of the shades 
down except one, and that she left a few inches from 
the sill. Then she ran to her room to put on a street 
dress, and at nine slipped out of the side door. 



Is this your Son, my J^ord/ 41 

" Fred," she said softly, and then there was a 
muffled sound of kisses and murmured words that 
are not spelled with letters, and Fred Harmon 
tucked her hand under his arm and they passed 
quickly up the street. 

If Maude Stone was indiscreet, it is only right to 
say that she was very young and " in love "and 
that she had been brought up where every one in 
the town knew her and hers. She had had her 
own way and was not exactly in " our set"; though 
the latter fact was due to no fault of her own and 
many girls in " our set " were far less genuine, 
perhaps. Maude's home was in a small town in the 
West, where every one respected her and her 
father and her mother for what they were ; where 
no one thought it at all out of the way if the girls 
met one, or a dozen, young men on the street and 
stopped to talk and laugh over their various inno- 
cent amusements ; as innocent on the part of the 
girls as if they were babes in long gowns, and fully 
understood to be so by all the young men who, while 
far less innocent themselves, were still able to look 
any honest girl in the face without an accusing con- 
science so far as she and her type were concerned. 

They thought of these as quite apart, and of 
totally different natures from " the other kind," and 
any one of them would have fared badly enough 
at the hands of his fellows if he had so much as 
hinted at anything to the discredit of Maude Stone. 



42 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

They often laughed, it is true, at the absurdly 
plain things she said, over the indiscreet things sh'e 
did, and at the oddly unsophisticated wayg she had ; 
but nothing short of her own declaration would 
have convinced any one of them that Maude was 
not, as they said, " all right, and the very best and 
jolliest girl in the world." 

" She is so chummy," said one ; " she never 
expects a fellow to make love to her and she likes 
all the things any other fellow does. I'd give ten 
dollars to see her in the country, if she didn't know 
anybody was about. She'd skin up a tree like a 
cat. Last summer she sat on the fence and talked 
with that boatman up at Lake Petosky, an hour at 
a time, and she took in more legendary lore about 
those wilds than would have filled a good sized 
school history. She could tell the whole conversa- 
tion, too, when she came back to the hotel. She 
kept us all in a roar one evening rehearsing it. She 
is the best mimic I ever saw, and she never misses 
a point. But she wouldn't let any of us guy the 
boatman. She said he was interesting and funny 
to study ; but she wouldn't allow fun made of him 
in any way that would hurt his feelings. She was 
furious at me one day when I laughed at him be- 
cause he asked her, with all the elaboration result- 
ing from the most careful previous preparation ; 
' Will you have your eel skun, Miss ? ' She had 
hooked an enormous eel while we were out fishing, 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 43 

and he had evidently spent a good deal of careful 
thought on his question so as to have it in the most 
approved style. It sounded so deliciously absurd 
that I burst out laughing. There he stood holding 
up a great squirmy eel and inquiring gravely as to 
her wishes in regard to depriving him of his ulster. 
Maude looked at me with fire in her eyes, I tell 
you ; and then she turned around and said deliber- 
ately : ' Does he have to be skun ? Oh, yes, please, 
if that is the way they fix eels ; do have him " skun " 
for me and sent up to the hotel. I think papa eats 
them. I don't know that I can, they look so dread- 
fully snaky.' The boatman was delighted to be 
able to serve her, and she hardly spoke to me 
that evening. All next day she actually made 
me giggle like a fool, to make the boatman think I 
had fits of that kind and mustn't be held to account 
for them. I think he made up his mind that I was 
a little crazy. If I caught a fish I giggled, and if 
I didn't catch one she'd glare at me to let me know 
it was time to giggle again. If she said it was hot, 
I laughed uproariously, and if her mother asked 
me to bait her hook, I exploded. I knew it was 
that, or war with Maude, for she was intent on 
healing the lacerated feelings of that poor, abused, 
insulted son of the oars. Mrs. Stone has set me 
down as weak minded ever since ; but Maude and 
I are chums again, so I don't care. I tell you she's 
a brick." 



44 Is this your /Son, my Lord? 

"You bet," said one of her other admirers who 
had heard the story; "she's a whole hodful 
cream tinted, fresh Milwaukee bricks, at that ; " 
and the young fellows laughed, with no sense of 
discourtesy to the girl in their free handling of 
her name, albeit there were several listeners on 
the hotel veranda who were strangers to Maude 
Stone. 

One of these was Fred Harmon, who was spend- 
ing a part of his vacation with Harvey Ball, and he 
made up his mind, then and there, to have some 
fun with that girl. All these village boys were 
evidently in love with her. His spirit of investiga- 
tion was aroused. It would be easy enough to meet 
her. His host, Harvey Ball, had known her ever 
since she was born, and an introduction was to be 
had for the asking. 

It did not take young Harmon long to fall in 
love with her, himself, and honestly to feel that he 
had met his fate. He had no intentions, either 
honorable or otherwise, when he decided to ask 
Harvey Ball to take him to call upon her. He 
felt only the curiosity inspired by the talk he had 
heard, and a glimpse of her fine figure and fresh, 
young face, as she had passed the hotel. But he 
prolonged his visit in the town, and by the end 
of the summer they were betrothed, and as happy 
and hopeful as two such children usually are when 
they think that they have settled, for life, the most 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 45 

momentous question of their existence, by the light 
of their inexperience and faith. 

Maude was rich in her own right, or would be 
when she should be of age. An aunt had left her 
a fortune, and her father, while he had made some 
pretence of being a lawyer, was in point of fact a 
collector of rents, and an owner of pine lands which 
gave him a large income and promise of vast 
wealth in the not far-distant future. It is only fail- 
to Mr. Fred Harmon to say, that he was not aware 
of the fact, if the wealth of Maude, or that of her 
father, had influenced him in the least. He believod 
that he loved Maude for herself alone ; but it is not 
always easy to say just what does or does not influ- 
ence a young man who has been steadily trained 
from his infancy to think first of all of results from 
"their" point of view; to make new friends, or 
to avoid knowing people, after due deliberation, on 
these questions : "Will it be judicious? Will they 
be of advantage to me socially or otherwise ? Have 
they a country place where I should like to be in- 
vited ? If they have, can I afford to go ? That is 
to say, will 'they' find it out, -if I do, and will 
* they ' frown upon me ? Or, if it is where 
'they* will know nothing about it, will there be 
any danger that any member of this country 
family will ever take it into his ridiculous head to 
come to Boston, and expect me to go about with 
him?" 



46 Is this your >&m, my Lord? 

I say that it is very difficult to determine just 
what considerations do or do not form the basis of 
any action after twenty-four years of this sort of 
training ; and so when I assert that Fred Harmon 
firmly believed that he loved Maude for her own 
. dear, frank self alone, I am aware that I am run- 
ning more or less risk of attributing to him a far 
greater simplicity of motive than might be quite 
fair to one of his complex and highly civilized 
mental and moral condition. 

Fred was poor. That was one reason why his 
mother had trained him so carefully not to allow 
himself to step one inch outside of the well-estab- 
lished channels of thought and action. She held 
that a rich man might possibly risk it, and recover 
his ground afterward ; but a poor man, never. 
Fred was conscious of certain rebellious ideas of 
his own, which he would like very much, indeed, to 
dare to express. Maude was rich. 

In his inmost soul Fred had often chafed at the 
repressions and eliminations to which his position 
had always condemned him. Maude was rich. 

Once or twice before he had been in the West, 
where he was so situated that ha had dared to say 
and do what he had liked best ; to express his real 
thoughts and feelings ( so far as he could be sure 
what they were in their embryonic and tentative 
state), and it had been a great luxury. He 
had felt like a new being, taller- and stronger 



Ts this your Son, my Lord? 47 

and firmer on his feet, until his mother had con- 
vinced him that he had been temporarily out of his 
mind, and that it would be utterly impossible for 
any sane man of his position and culture to hold 
such revolutionary views, none of which were in- 
dorsed by Father Highchurch, or even by the eso- 
teric Buddhists of her acquaintance. Fred had 
therefore learned to distrust his mental opera- 
tions, and really to question his own sanity, when 
he found himself holding opinions on any subject 
whatsoever which had not the indorsement and 
seal of those whose intellectual garments had al- 
ways been given to him, ready made, with the 
injunction that not a stitch, not a button, not a ra- 
velling could be altered without utterly ruining the 
fit and bringing disgrace and shame upon his own 
un draped and nude mentality. 

One or two of their friends had taken the social 
and religious bit in their teeth, it was true, and 
they had come to no grief ; but Fred's mother had 
pointed out that in each case they were rich, and, 
well, Maude was rich 1 



48 2s this your Son, my Lord? 



CHAPTER IV. 

This Is not right, is not just, is not true to the best that is in you. . . . 

So the maiden went on, and little divined or imagined what was at 
work in his heart. . . . 

Let us, then, be what we are, and speak what we think, and In all 
things 

Keep ourselves loyal to truth. . . . 

" 'Twas but a dream, let it pass, let it vanish like so many others I 
What I thought was a flower, is only a weed, and is worthless ; 
Out of my heart will I pluck it, and throw it away." Longfellow. 

Ah, well ! ah well ! who is to say what Mr. Fred 
Harmon's motives were, and what they were not, 
when he sat down that delicious summer to think 
it all over, and finally decided to ask Maude not to 
expect him to announce their engagement to his 
mother, just yet ? He asked her to keep it a 
secret between themselves and her family. Maude's 
father did not like this ; but he gave it no great 
thought at first, and as the young fellow had come 
very openly and said that he loved Maude, and 
wanted his consent to marry her when he should 
finish college and have a profession, Mr. Stone 
had replied that it was for Maude to say whether 
she was willing to be betrothed under those condi- 
tions. That had settled it. Fred knew, of course, 
what was right. His' mother was an invalid, and 
he did not want to trouble her just now. Of course, 
a mother would dislike dreadfully to have her only 
son love any girl and want to marry her, especially 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 49 

if she did not know the girl beforehand. They 
would wait until he had established himself in 
something, if need be, though Maude told him that 
she had enough for both and that he need not 
worry about that. 

" Yes, of course, Fred," she had said, " you will 
want to do something. Any manly man would ; 
but what I meant was that you need not worry 
over it as if I had nothing. You can take time to 
think and choose to suit yourself. Don't be a 
clergyman, Fred," she had added. " I would be 
such a guy as a clergyman's wife. I do so love to 
dance and have fun; and then, Fred, I never could, 
would, nor should keep my face straight to see you 
trailing around in a Mother-Hubbard." 

Fred laughed. He wondered what his mother 
would say if she heard the gown she so worshipped* 
on Father Highchurch, called a Mother-Hubbard 
by the girl he loved. 

" And then, Fred," Maude added, quite seri- 
ously, " you say, yourself, that you don't believe 
the creed and the thirty-nine articles, and you 
believe that Christ was the son of Joseph, and 
you don't believe in the justice of the vicarious 
atonement, and oh, I'm sure, Fred, from what 
you said to father that night on the veranda, 
that a man who had the least self-respect, couldn't 
be an Episcopal clergyman and think as you do. 
Why, Fred, there weren't three grains difference 



50 Is this your /Son, my Lord? 

between your belief and father's, and he isn't even 
a Unitarian. He's an Agnostic." 

Fred beheld the vision of his mother again, 
horrified and indignant. According to her belief 
Agnostics and Anarchists were about the san:'. 
thing, and neither were persons one would eve*, 
care to meet out on a dark night. 

" You are so literal, Maude," he said, playing with 
the ring on her finger. " You are such a downright 
literal little sweetheart, don't you know, that you 
don't see those things in exactly the same light that 
I do that such men as Heber Newton and Phillips 
Brooks, for example, see them ? They are broad 
enough to please even you, I should think. If I 
were to take orders, I should not be a High-church- 
man, but a Broad-churchman such as they are. 
Mother would agree to that so long as I wore the 
vestments at all, although she will remain rigidly 
High-church, herself." 

" What has your mother agreeing to it, or not 
agreeing to it, to do with the case, Fred, if you 
don't believe it ? " she asked quite simply. Fred 
was astounded ; but she went on without noticing 
his expression. " You have to be true to your own 
opinions and conclusions, in a thing like that, don't 
you ? You surely can't believe this and disbelieve 
that because she or any one else tells you they will 
agree to it to your going just so far in your mind 
and no farther, can you ? " 



Js this your Son, my Lord? 51 

She laughed. Her sense of humor always relieved 
her intensity of conviction. 

" I think I can see you, Fred, with your black 
Mother-Hubbard on, skipping across the platform 
to get at the middle pulpit, and then shying out 
through a door to take that one off and put on a 
white polonaise with black trimmings or is it the 
other way? I always forget which costume comes 
first, and suddenly coming back and bobbing down 
at the side pulpit. Oh dear ! I never can help want- 
ing to laugh. A man looks so ridiculous. He al- 
ways looks as if he felt like a fool, and I should 
think he would, especially if he is large, like you. 
But when you come to take orders, as you say, the 
Bishop will ask you solemnly, ' Do you firmly be- 
lieve that twice two are five, and that under theo- 
logical conditions, three times five are twenty-one ? ' 
If you are going to be a Broad-churchman, as you 
call it, and answer him according to ' the higher 
criticism,' you will say, devoutly, that you can agree 
to both very readily, with certain mental reserva- 
tions. Then the Bishop will look at you with 
grave suspicions and request you to state those 
reservations in italics, and to do it pretty quick, 
at that." 

She paused and looked at him in a quizzical way. 
Then she said : " Young man, you're going to be 
scared. You're going to discover that those 
mental reservations take in the whole state. There 



52 Ts this your Son, my Lord? 

won't be a county intact ; but you'll find one little 
polling district, as they say, when they talk poli- 
tics, and you will think it is a good one to bring 
forward to show that you are orthodox ; but, my 
son," said the girl with a shake of the head, " that 
Bishop will go behind the returns. You will say 
that what you really believe is that twice two are 
four with the next number above it five." Fred 
laughed and kissed her ; but she freed herself 
from his detaining arm, and went on. 

" After due deliberation the Bishop will tell you 
that since you are a very desirable candidate, he is 
willing for you to believe it that way, provided you 
keep it to yourself and teach your parishioners only 
the er a simpler formula, which is far better 
suited to the ordinary mind ; but as for the other 
proposition that three times five are twenty-one, it 
is absolutely essential that you believe that person- 
ally. You'll try to squirm out of it ; but he will be 
obdurate. He will send you away to think it over. 
He won't say so exactly, but he will mean just 
about this : * Young man, when you come back 
here, you say that three times five are twenty-one, 
and receive a good parish, honors, some money, 
social position, and no end of praise ; but return to 
me with any other statement, and you will not only 
fail of these, but you will feel, besides, the heavy 
hand of power laid somewhat ungently on your 
youthful head.' " 



Is this your /Son, my Lord? 53 

She brought her hand down on his well kept 
hair, and allowed it to rest there as she went on. 

" Well, you will go off to think it over. You 
like ease. Praise is a delight to you. The pulpit 
of a rich parish is the very easiest way on this earth 
for average ability to get itself worshipped as 
genius, papa says. Now, Fred, you have one weak- 
ness, oh, yes, you have ! You like to be wor- 
shipped. I don't blame you," she laughed, " so do 
I. No such thing. 'M-m-m ! Oh, stop, Fred ! I'll 
take your word for the rest of this particular dem- 
onstration of the degree to which you adore me. 
I really must finish my story. I've got you in an 
awfully tight place, and I want to get you out. 
Willing to stay there ? Why, Fred, you are not ! 
It wouldn't be honest. Well, here you are, and 
here is the Bishop." She struck an attitude and 
looked very severe as she posed for that august 
personage. When she was Fred, her meekness 
and conciliatory tones and pose were very amus- 
ing to the young fellow, who greatly enjoyed her 
power of mimicry. 

" 'Your reverence,' say you, ' I am now prepared 
to accept that other canon of belief. I believe, 
fully, that if five were seven the result could not 
fail to be exactly as you say, and that, since, 
* Depart, ye cursed, until you make up your mind 
that three times five are twenty-one, pure and simple, 
without frills or tucks, sir ! ' and you depart." 



54 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

She laughed gayly again, and held his hand to 
her soft cheek, stroking it up and down slowly; 
then she dropped it and began afresh, standing up 
to emphasize the effect, while she again acted the 
parts of the unrelenting Bishop and the ingenuous 
applicant for holy orders. 

" Well, as I remarked before, you depart. You 
come to me. We get our little siates and we fig- 
ure, we multiply, and we add, and we fail to get 
his result. You go to the leaders of the Broad- 
church. They put their whole minds on it for 
awhile. By and by, they say : ' Simple as can be, 
my son ; give it to the Bishop this way.' It reads : 
three multiplied by five plus six are twenty-one. 
When you show it to the Bishop, he waxeth wroth 
and demandeth sternly : ' What does this mean, sir? 
I thought I told you to get it without any extras.' " 

Maude scowled fiercely, and then, suddenly 
changing her manner to one of propitiation, went 
meekly on : 

" If you please, sir, we of the Broad-church do 
not count the six. It is thrown in for good 
measure, and nobody ever notices it any way. I 
do assure you that is my very best, Bishop, and 
after learning to duplicate the explanation, as 
made to me this morning, no one in my parish 
will ever notice the six. We write it very small." 

Fred had entered into the fun of it, and Maude 
did act so well. He sprang to his feet, and caught 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 55 

her in his arms, covering her lovely face with 
kisses. 

"How comical you are, Maude!" She broke 
away laughing, and seated herself at the piano. 

"All that you can do, Fred, if you choose to 
eat humble pie ; but you cannot, you cannot, you 
cannot think their way if you don't, and that's all 
there is of it;" and she ran her fingers over the 
keys, while their young voices simultaneously rang 
out in a love song from Siegfried. Theology was 
forgotten. From the stern orthodox Bishop with 
his effort to maintain his mental integrity ; from 
the Broad-church leaders with their bold elimina- 
tions and substitutions, their premises, which, as 
Maude said, were not even blood relations to their 
conclusions ; from the timid, eager, hopeful novi- 
tiate, Maude had passed into the beautiful, loving, 
trusting girl, happy in her splendid lover and 
radiant in her happiness. 

But the world is small, and Mr. Fred Harmon 
had not reckoned on one thing. About this time 
Harvey Ball wrote to a college chum, and lo ! the 
engagement, which was to be kept for a time from 
his mother, was the talk of Boston. 

It was done quite innocently. Harvey knew of 
no reason why. he should not speak of it. It was 
no secret here at Maude's home. All the boys 
congratulated Fred and envied him, in a certain 
sense. They were glad of Maude's good fortune ; 



56 Js this your Son, my Lord? 

for the glamour of " our set " quite surrounded the 
young fellow from Beacon Hill, and his very 
reticence and caution told strongly \ipon their 
more open, bluff, and simple natures. Fred's 
mother heard. She called him home at once. 
She sent for a doctor ; then she told Fred that ho 
was insane again. She reminded him of several 
previous mistakes in his judgment, which he 
could not deny. She bade him write to Maude and 
break the engagement at once, on the ground 
that he had not been in his right mind ; and shall 
I tell the truth ? he promised, but did not do it. 

It is true that he wrote to Maude, and appeared 
to blame her because she had let the engagement be 
known. His letter conveyed to the girl's wounded 
heart the impression that he thought she had 
been so elated, that she had been unable to conceal 
her exultation because of her supreme good fortune. 

Once under the old spell again, he felt anew the 
power of convention, and reflected that Maude 
would gain a vast deal by her elevation to the 
charmed circle of exclusive, social Boston. He 
recalled her humorous representation of the Bishop 
in his " Mother-Hubbard, " and of him, the young 
novitiate, nimbly presenting his various evasions of 
fact in the hope of hitting on one that would "take;" 
and, as he reflected, he decided to let his mother 
believe what she had unhesitatingly announced 
from the moment she had heard the dreadful news, 



Js this your Son, my Lord? 57 

that Maude and her people had deliberately laid 
a trap to ensnare her son for their own glory 
and aggrandizement. Fred did not say that she 
was right in this version of the affair ; but he let 
her repeat it, and did not insist that she was wrong. 
To his father, Fred had said nothing. Indeed, there 
was scant need that he should say anything for 
that gentleman had long ago made up his mind 
or whatever served him in that capacity to 
accept, without question, the social dictates of his 
ambitious and socially skilful wife. He had taken 
this course long before the marriage of their 
daughter, and had not she been piloted into a most 
brilliant and desirable union with a scion of the 
house of one of the elect? It is true that Clara was 
looking somewhat pale and sad, of late; but one could 
not ask too much of matrimony and happiness, it 
is to be supposed, is not the sole aim of existence. 
But all this trouble arising in Fred's betrothal to 
his pretty western sweetheart had been long ago, and 
Maude had covered her heartache and said nothing 
to her father about it lest he blame Fred ; and 
after all, Fred had written nothing to be blamed for. 
He had seemed vexed, it is true, and his letters had 
lacked the tone she had longed to find in them; 
but he had said nothing unkind, and perhaps, oh, 
perhaps, lovers did not write just the words and in 
just the tone that her heart hungered for, especially 
if the lover had had the advantage of training in good 



58 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

form. So Maude hid her pain, and by and by Fred's 
letters were full of other things again, and he said 
no more of the worry about their engagement be- 
ing known at his home ; but she would have liked 
very much to receive a kind letter from his parents. 
She was glad that Fred had always been charming 
with her father and mother; but she would have 
loved to show her heart to his people too. 

Maude had always thought that she would never 
allow her pride to stand as a barrier against a close 
and loving relationship between herself and her 
husband's family. 

She would so enjoy conforming to their ways and 
showing them how much she loved the man she 
had married and those who were near to him in 
blood and thought. But she waited and waited, 
and no message came from his family and he said 
no more about it. He only wrote charming letters. 
Maude could not help feeling at times that they 
would have been equally interesting and delightful 
to anyone else, except for the " darling " at the 
Beginning, and " your Fred" at the end. 

She put a good deal more than that in hers ; but 
then, Fred had al way s~ been used to self- repression, 
while she, oh, she had worn her heart on her sleeve 
all her short life, and said what she felt and felt 
what she said. So it was different, of course. 

But all this, as I say, had been in the past, and 
now Maude had gone to visit her aunt in Brooklyn, 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 59 

and Fred had come to New York, as he told his 
mother, to look about him and make up his mind 
what to do next, now that he had been graduated. 
His mother firmly believed that he had broken 
with Maude, and wrote to her friend a letter which 
ended thus : . . . " The girl has an uncle, I 
am told, who is in disrepute, and she, herself, must 
be an unwholesome creature, mentally. Fancy a 
woman who buttons her gloves after she is on the 
doorstep, married to Fred! . . . But the 
dear fellow has quite recovered from his infatua- 
tion now, and I breathe again. Be thankful with 
me ! Be grateful to our blessed Christ that He did 
not permit this sacrifice. Oh, it seems to me that I 
cannot thank Him enough that my splendid son has 
escaped from the wiles of those designing people." 
The girl the I can think of no word with 
which I would willingly pollute my tongue to 
describe the bold creature is, they tell me, very 
pretty, and, of course, that goes a great way with 
an inexperienced young fellow like Fred. And 
equally of course, she knew how to play her 
beauty off on him to the best advantage. 

" Ah, well, he is safe again ; but, dear, do you 
know I thought, at one time, that I should be com- 
pelled to have him adjudged insane by Dr. K ? 

You know he did that for Father High-church when 
Eddie married the poor, unpleasing creature he 
did, and the court annulled the marriage on that 



60 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

ground. It was all done secretly ; but a few of us 
knew of it. 

" By the way, did I tell you that Eddie is to marry 
my niece in the fall? I am so glad and proud, for 
Eddie is to take his uncle's place in the parish 
when he is a little older, unless all signs fail. He 
is only an assistant rector now ; but his place is 
quite assured, and his abilities remarkable already. 
It is really quite a feather in Dell's cap, too, for 
the Forrest girls threw themselves at his head and 
well, let us draw a cloak of charity over Mrs. 
C 's conduct with Kate." 

Maude sent the note from Fred the telegraphic 
note as she called it to her father. She never 
thought of not sending it, poor child, for her first 
idea was to have him know that Fred had come 
to New York as soon as he had learned that she 
was there. She had found herself frequently, of 
late, trying to defend Fred from thoughts she 
sometimes had, and in her fear, imagined her father 
might have also. But Fred's note produced quite 
a different effect upon her father from anything 
Maude had expected. He wrote a letter at once to 
that young gentleman, and as he did not want to 
send it to Maude, and did not know Fred's New 
York address, he mailed it to Boston and marked 
it " forward." A part of it read thus : 

"It may be Eastern style, it may be High-church, or 
Broad-church, or bon-ton etiquette, to write to a girl 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 61 

to fix her window shades so and so if she is willing to 
go out with you for a walk ; but it isn't Western, and, 
by Heaven, sir, you can't do it with my daughter ! 

" If you can't treat her in the East as you treat her 
at her own home ; if you can't walk in and show 
yourself, and be open and above board, I'll send 
Maude to Europe, or somewhere else, if it kills her 
before you shall see her again. What do you 
mean, sir? Window shades, indeed! Don't try 
any of your filagree- work, comic opera business, on 
my daughter, or you'll hear something drop and 
it won't be I, either. I've written to Maude that 
in my opinion, she had better give you your walk- 
ing papers ; but in the meantime, I'd like you to 
explain this note to her and to me, and if you have 
any prejudices, as you call them, in favor of a whole 
skin, you'd better do it pretty damn quick, at that." 

When Mrs. Harmon, Fred's mother, opened and 
read this letter, as I am bound to say she did, 
she decided not to send it to Fred ; but she wrote 
him instead : 

"Fred, dearie, I have received the most impu- 
dent letter from that man, the father of the 

I don't know what to call her who set that trap 
for your dear feet. He has not given you up yet. 
He dares to threaten you ! I told you how it would 
be. They mean to try to force you to marry her. 
Well, remember, my son, that you are a man now, and 
remember, too, that you are a gentleman. . . . Such 



62 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

a letter ! Such a vulgar, low, blasphemous letter as 
he wrote ! It would kill my refined, high-strung boy 
to be associated with such common people. . . . 
Now, my dear, don't pay the least attention. They 
evidently don't know where you are. Don't let 
them. Break off all communication, if you have 
not. They cannot frighten me into telling where 
you are, and no one else knows. 

" Take a trip out to St. Louis or Chicago and 
don't allow any of them to get your address. . . . 
Let them have nothing in writing. If possible get 
your letters from that girl and burn every 
one of them. Never again sign anything. . . . 
They can't hold you in law. If they try it, or 

even threaten to, Dr. K says he will say 

that you were out of your mind, as of course you 
were, or it never would have happened. . . . 
Now go, son, the moment you get this, and write 
only to your loving mamma. 

"P. S. Remember what a glorious future is 
before one with your rare mental and social gifts, 
if only you keep yourself free." 

Fred read this letter, and then a note from 
Maude. He was not particularly disturbed by 
either. He was not sure that he fully understood 
what was behind the words Maude wrote ; but his 
guess came very near the truth. Her note began : 
'' I had a cruel letter." Then she had drawn a line 
over it and begun again : " I return all of your 



Ts this your /Son, my Lord? 63 

letters and ring. I do not know what to think. 
I am bewildered and pained. I leave town at 
once. Papa has sent for my aunt to take me 
away. I do not understand; but no doubt you 
will you and your mother. Good-by." 

The fact was that Fred's mother had written to 
Maude a long, cunningly- worded letter, in which 
she had appealed to the girl to give her son his 
freedom. She argued so effectively, and appealed 
to the girl's pride in such a way, that Maude had 
hastened to comply with her request, even to the 
last detail that she say nothing to Fred of the 
maternal letter. It is to be doubted whether 
Maude would have complied so readily, without 
first hearing from her lover, if she had not received 
a note from her father which spoke rather severely 
of Fred and of his recent conduct. It was all 
rather blind to her; but she could see that the 
accompanying letter from her father to her aunt 
which was a long one, and which, contrary to the 
family custom, had not been given her to read, 
had produced deep wrath in the bosom of that 
lady ; and she announced that they would leave 
at once, for Maude's home. 

It h.ad all taken such a little time. Aunt Stone was 
a person of quick decision and prompt action, and 
now the trunks were packed, and Maude locked her 
door and flung herself, face down, on her bed, and 
wept and moaned for all the dreams that were past. 



64 Is this your Son, my Lord? 



CHAPTER V. 

" And In the world, as in the school, 

I'd say how fate may change and shift, 
The prize be sometimes with the fool. 

The race not always to the swift; 
The strong may yield, the good may fall. 

The great man be a vulgar clown, 
The knave be lifted over all, 

The kind cast pitilessl) down." Thackeray. 

"It Is probable that the great majority of voices that swell the clamor 
against every book which is regarded as heretical, are the voices of those 
who would deem it criminal even to open that book, or to enter into any 
real, searching and impartial investigation of the subject to which it 
relates." Lecky. 

Late that evening Fred stepped into a Club on 
Fifth Avenue. He felt tired, unsteady, and 
worn. He did not know what next to do, or 
where to go. He assured himself that he had been 
very badly treated and that he was most miserable. 
He chewed his mustache, and scowled in melan- 
choly silence as he took a seat where he could 
hear without being expected to participate in the 
conversation of a group of well-known men. Even 
in his desolation, he did not forget that it was well 
to be associated in the public mind with the lions 
of the day, and the group was clearly seen from 
the street. He had noticed that as he came in. 
Early in the evening he had gone to the house in 
Brooklyn to ask so he told himself for an ex- 
planation of Maude's note ; but he had been met at 



Is this your Son, my Lord? - 65 

the door by the butler, and told that the ladies were 
at that moment on their way to Europe that they 
had sailed early in the afternoon. No, he could not 
remember the name of the steamer, and no word 
had been left for anyone. " How long ? " He really 
did not know, but had heard some talk of a year 
in France, and then a tour in some place or other ; 
but really he did not know much about it. None 
of which was true, and Fred was not at all sure 
that he believed it ; but he went away, and Maude 
did not know that he had made even this feeble 
attempt to see her, and the night train for the West 
had pulled out with much puffing, and backing, and 
whistling, all of which tortured the girl who sat 
with closed eyes, as if it were a part of her sorrow, 
and contrived for her benefit alone. When Fred 
Harmon entered the club room, several of the 
younger men in the far corner bowed to him ; but, 
as I say, he had selected his seat from the outside, 
and he took it now with an easy assurance' that 
started little streams of envious thought in minds 
less diplomatically gifted than his own. 

The death of a novelist was the bit of news 
under discussion by the distinguished group of 
whom Fred was now from the street, at least a 
member. The rightful place of the departed in 
the world of letters aroused a warmth of expres- 
sion which Fred felt was distinctly not of the Back 
Bay. But then of course New York was not -~ 



66 



. Is this your Son, my Lord? 



that is, one could not expect the same degree of 
culture well, it was quite a distance from New 
York to Harvard, and most of these men were 
thorough New Yorkers. Indeed, one of them, at 
least, was even more unfortunate. He was from 
the West. Fred thought he held his own remark- 
ably well, under the circumstances. He could not 
help smiling, in spite of his forlornly unhappy state, 
as he thought how lucky it was for this Western 
man that none of his opponents were Bostonians. 

" You cannot call that sort of writing Literature ;" 
said a tall, fine looking man, whose rank as a 
novelist was, as he felt, quite assured. " It would 
be like calling a chromo Art, or the jingle of a hand- 
organ Music." 

" But he made more money than any of you 
high-toned fellows," asserted one of the dead 
author's admirers, " and after all, that is the main 
tking with all of you. You'd do it quick enough 
if you could. Don't talk to me about genius and 
all that sort of thing ; if he had the genius to touch 
the popular heart, you can't deny that he got away 
with most of you, after all." 

" Oh, when it comes to that," said another man 
of letters, whose heavy articles charm a few, are 
read as a duty by some, and avoided as a pestilence 
by the many, " when it comes to talk about touch- 
ing the popular heart, that is best done with a pair 
of shears and a paste pot. I know a publisher who 



Js this your Son, my Lord? 67 

understood the trick perfectly. He knew that 
anything that had Mother in the title no matter 
if it was the veriest twaddle on earth would sell. 
A certain number of idiots would have that book 
or die. He estimated that about one hundred 
thousand fools out of the sixty million in this 
enlightened country would nibble at that bait. He 
thought that about the same number would buy 
anything with Home in the title. Heaven would 
bring down a like number, and a combination of 
the three would fascinate almost anybody." Fred 
was getting interested, and a general smile of 
amusement went around the circle and somewhat 
dissipated the air of hostility that had begun to 
show itself a moment before. 

" Well, that man took a pair of shears and a pot 
of paste, and he clipped and pasted and pasted and 
clipped all the odds and ends he could find that he 
could by the widest stretch of his fertile and 
elastic imagination bring under any one of these 
heads. He got a lot. Then he issued the book, 
and put ' Mother, Home and Heaven,' in large 
and duly impressive gilt letters on the coyer ; and 
what do you suppose was the result of his ven- 
ture ? " 

" Didn't sell ten copies," laughed a young 
artist. 

" Sold like hot cakes until the disjointed and 
worthless nature of the work became known, 



I 



68 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

and then some of his victims walked in one day and 
scalped him ; " suggested a well-known army man 
from Arizona, who was the guest of the evening. 

" Died of remorse before the first edition of five 
hundred was sold," ventured an actor who had 
just made a hit in tragedy at a Broadway theatre. 

" Not a bit of it ! " said the pessimist of the 
heavy literature. " Not a bit of it ! He sold, for 
hard cash, just four hundred thousand copies of 
that unadulterated trash to a like number of de- 
lighted imbeciles, who call it literature, and pride 
themselves on the fact that they and theirs are 
readers ! " 

A general laugh mingled with his groan of dis- 
gust, and then a tall, gray-bearded editor of kindly 
heart and caustic pen, took up the cudgel for 
suffering literature. 

" Of course," said he. " What better could you 
expect ? Look at the half educated idiots the public 
schools turn loose every year on a long-suffering 
and sorely-tried community ! It makes my hair 
curl only to think of it. They are under the 
impression that they are educated, and they know 
just exactly enough to make them perfectly hope- 
less cases to deal with. But the ' Mother, Home 
and Heaven ' crowd is not half so bad as the other 
one ; " he added, and then paused. 

"Which other?" inquired the tragic actor. 
The Father, Club and Hell set?" 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 69 

Every one laughed again except the gray-bearded, 
sweet-natured editor, him of the trenchant pen. He 
was in earnest, and as the army man remarked, 
" on the war path." 

" No ! " said he, indignantly ; " the ' Elmina 
Stabbed the Count,' crowd. The woods are full of 
them ! Don't talk to me about literature ! Why, 
do you realize, my Christian friends of the book- 
making fraternity, that there are sixty millions of 
people in this enlightened land of ours, and that 
only three millions of them ever read books, maga- 
zines, or even newspapers? Go to! Literature, 
indeed! What we want in this country is what 
people will read, isn't it ? Well, that is ' Mother, 
Home and Heaven,' two parts, and ' Elmina Stabbed 
the Count,' three parts ; well shaken together, and 
served hot. Oh, no, my friends, don't fret about 
the dear departed. He knew what he was about ; " 
and with a groan of pent up indignation for suffer- 
ing literature with a very large L, he jammed his 
hat on his fine, well-poised head, and started 
for his office " to write," cynically remarked the 
tragic actor, " a glowing editorial on the high grade 
of intelligence possessed by the American people 
in general, and the high-school graduate in par- 
ticular." 

Fred followed him somewhat aimlessly from the 
room, and out into the street. Then he called a 
cab and drove to his hotel. 



70 Ts this your Son, my Lord? 

" Call me for the midnight train, on the Pennsyl- 
vania Central ; " said he to the clerk, and went to 
his room to pack his " traps," feeling that the world 
was very hollow, indeed, and that women were at 
the bottom of it all. 

WTien Preston Mansfield, homeward bound, 
reached the waiting-room in Jersey City, he was 
surprised to see Fred Harmon strolling gloomily 
up and down the platform. 

"Hello, old man ! Chicago?" said Preston. 

" No. Yes. I don't know," replied Fred, some- 
what impatiently. " West, somewhere." 

" Better drop in on us while you are cruising 
around. Small place. Not a great deal to see 
Nothing to do ; but I have to go home once in a 
while, and look after the folks and do the lead- 
ing citizen act. Drop in on us if you're our way. 
Take you hunting. Lots of game. By Jove, a 
porcupine waddled into our back yard the last time 
I was home ! " 

" No ! " exclaimed Fred, deeply interested. He 
was a born hunter. Bringing down game gave 
him the keenest pleasure. 

"Fact," said Preston. "Oh, we're primitive 
out our way. Most of our callers are bear or 
Indians. We like the bear best, they don't smell 
so bad. Wah ! did you ever get on the lee side of 
an Indian in good and regular standing? No? 
Well, don't. Good by! this is my buggy;" and 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 71 

Preston sprang upon the step of the sleeping 
coach just as the train pulled out. Fred, with his 
usual reticence and caution, concluded quietly to 
wait for the next train. And Maude never knew why 
the section across from hers was left vacant, for 
she had heard the conductor insist that it had been 
taken and paid for. But New York has attractions 
for even a broken-hearted young collegian, and it 
was more than a month before Fred stepped 
aboard a west-bound train. 

It was five weeks later when Harvey Ball took 
his seat at the military dinner given in St. Louis 
in honor of the arrival of General Sherman. He 
did not know why it was, but he observed that a 
feeling of bitterness hovered about the head of the 
table, and that it was intensified the farther it 
travelled toward the foot. 

"Isn't it shocking ? " whispered the lady at his side. 

" If you say so, yes, but what is it ? " laughed 
young Ball. 

The lady, somewhat mature in years, but with, the 
complexion of an infant and the manner of a school 
girl, glared at him for a moment, biit seemed to 
remember that he was only an ordinary civilian, 
and therefore not to be held accountable for an 
otherwise inexcusable depth of ignorance. Then 
she sighed and spoke across him to the lady on his 
right, the poise of whose head and neck boded war 
on the morrow. 



72 Js this your Son, my Lord? 

" How dared she seat the senator's wife above 
Mrs. General C ?" 

" Well," replied the irate matron ; " that is not 
the worst of it. Did you notice that, as we came 

in, Mrs. Captain D preceded the colonel's 

wife ? " 

" Horrors, no ! Then she was ahead of me ! 
Well, of course, that settles it. Somebody has got 
to teach her her rank. Look at the bold creature 
talking to General Sherman. But he only tolerates 
her, as you can see. How on earth was such a 

mistake made about seating Mrs. General C ? I 

should think Mrs. Senator M would feel how 

dreadfully out of place she is and offer to change." 

" Oh, my dear, you forget that she is not of the 
regular army ! I really doubt if she has the least 
idea how outrageous it is. She probably feels 
quite at her ease. Just fancy ! " 

At this juncture the young captain opposite 
Harvey Ball, who had been his schoolfellow in 
years gone by, asked : 

" Do you keep up your interest in sociological 
studies, Ball? What did you think of Herbert 
Spencer's last ? Don't you think he made a bad 
break in that unknowable, with a big U, argument ? " 

" Why, Captain, you don't read Spencer do you ? " 
exclaimed the major's irate sister, in shocked sur- 
prise. " How dreadful ! But it is a loose age and 
of course your church has no views on literature." 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 73 

Harvey Ball was amused and curious. As a 
civil engineer he felt that it was his duty to take a 
survey of this new phase of mentality. He turned 
to her and said : 

" I shall have to confess to the same breach of 
decorum, I fear. I read Spencer at odd times too, 
and I never before knew that it was looked upon 
as an offence. Tell me about it. I am only a 
poor, uninstructed civilian. Is Herbert Spencer be- 
low the salt in regular army circles ? " But the 
lady on his other side broke in : 

" How terrible ! ' Do you know I heard two 
women admit reading him not long ago. I can't 
call them ladies, of course ; but 

" NQW don't say too much, my dear," said the ma- 
jor's sister ; " for I had heard so much talk about 
his writings and of course our Church does not 
approve of reading such things but feeling myself 
strong I made up my mind to read just one and 
see if it would undermine my faith, and really and 
truly, I think that the Church places too high an 
estimate upon the power of his writings. I read 
the book through carefully, and I do assure you 
that it did not disturb' my faith in the least ! " 

" Oh ! " gasped the other lady, " I should not care 
to try such a dangerous experiment. What a risk 
to run, my dear, what an awful risk to run ! " 

" Which one of his works did you read, may I 
ask ? " inquired the young captain opposite, looking 



74 is this your Son, my Lordf 

straight at Harvey Ball who was struggling with a 
twinkle in his eye, and did not dare to look up. 

" The Faerie Queene," she replied triumphantly. 

The young captain looked suddenly at his plate, 
and Harvey Ball searched in vain for a napkin in 
his lap. Presently he said quite soberly : " You 
did well, indeed, madam, if you read that incendi- 
ary work all through and kept your faith in gods 
or man intact. I congratulate you. I assure you that 
it is the man's very worst production. I have some- 
times thought that he laid himself out on that 
book." 

" Did you confess after you read it, may I ask ? " 
inquired the captain, dryly. " Yes, I did, and I 
went into retreat the next time two days longer 
than usual, too," she said. " Do not imagine, Cap- 
tain, that it had power to corrupt me in any way 
whatever. I am a Mountbuford. No one of them 
ever slighted or left the true faith. Lydia, are you 

sure that Mrs. Captain D came in before me ? 

Where is she now? You know I am a trifle near- 
sighted. Impossible ! What does General Sherman 
mean?" And she of the family of incorruptible 
Mountbufords took Harvey Ball's arm and strode 
majestically out of the room sad to relate, once 
more, after the captain's wife, who was 'chatting 
gaily with General Sherman, who had her on one 
arm and on the other Maude Stone, interested if not 
happy. 



Is this your /Son, my Lord? 75 

Maude's father stood near the door. She smiled 
at him as she passed, and then puckered her pretty 
brows into a playful frown. He knew that she 
wanted him to offer his arm to some lady; but 
looking over Harvey Ball's shoulder an hour later 
as they waltzed past, Maude saw her father still 
standing alone near the door, looking at her gloom- 
ily. He brightened when he saw that she was 
laughing. Harvey was rehearsing the precedence 
incident to her and just ended with the Faerie 
Queene faux pas. 

" It isn't true, oh, it isn't true, Harvey," laughed 
Maude ; " but it is a good story, all the same, and I 
shall tell it when I get home." 

"I assure you it is true," said he. "I never did 
come so near laughing in a lady's face in all my 
life, never. That is the one, over there. That 
one, who looks like a drum major. I pity the cap- 
tain's wife to-morrow." 

" What a petty life ! " said Maude, gravely, with 
her eyes on the pretty young woman, who had 
married the captain. " I should not care to marry 
an army man, and be forced into it, should you ? " 

Harvey smiled. " Well, no, I don't think of any 
army man just now that I would care to marry ; 
but you don't brass buttons and position in 
society attract all young ladies? They say so." 

" Which position ? Above or below the senator's 
wife ? Oh, how comical ! " And they strolled out 



76 Js this your Son, my Lord? 

into the hall for fresh air and rest. But Harvey 
Ball looked no cooler, certainly, when the young 
captain found them a little later in a quiet corner 
of the great rotunda, and Maude was flurried and 
ready to leave. Harvey Ball had never tried to 
make love to her before. Did he know of her 
broken engagement? Poor Maude, poor Maude 5 
she was glad enough that the captain came, and she 
asked him to go with her to find her father. 

"Even she likes brass buttons," thought young 
Ball, bitterly, as she disappeared on the arm of the 
captain, laughing as she had not laughed with him, 
he thought, since they were children together. 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 77 



CHAPTER VI. 

" O wad some Pow'r the glftle gle us 
To see oursete as others see us! "Burns. 

"It follows, that, until a man can be found who knows himself as his 
Maker kuowr him, or who sees himself as others see him , there must be at 
least six persons engaged In every dialogue between two." Oliver Wendell 
Holmet. 

"Don't be deceived by a facile exterior." Emerson. 

" I'll make it fifty more, to draw cards." 

" Raise you the limit." 

" You drew one card ? Well, I'll see you. By 
Jove ! if you didn't fill ! H-e-1-l-o ! There is Harvey 
Ball, going in the elevator. What is all this infernal 
noise in the hotel about, anyhow ? What is up ? " 
demanded Fred Harmon of the bell boy, who had left 
the door open, while depositing the wine on the table. 
Fred had arrived on the late train, and was finishing 
a little game with two commercial travellers whose 
acquaintance he had formed en route. 

"Military ball, sah. Gen'l Sherman heah, sah. 
All de swells in de city, sah, an' fum de hole sur- 
rounden' kentry. Some fum In'nap'lis an' some 
fum Sain-Jo, an' all de small places aroun'. Dey's 
two registed fum Chicago, even ; " said the bell 
boy, with unconscious local sarcasm. 

A moment later Maude passed the open door on 
the arm of the young captain, closely followed by 
her father. 



78 Is this your Son, my Lord? 



e w ! " whistled Fred, and stepped back 
while he pocketed his winnings. Maude paused op- 
posite to say good-night to the captain, and then 
Mr. Stone rang for the elevator. 

" Had a good time, Maude ? " asked her father, 
looking at her very hard. " Y-e-s," sai5 Maude ; 
" oh, yes, of course." 

" You little prevaricator ; " said Mr. Stone, in the 
most tenderly sympathetic tone, as he stooped to 
kiss her forehead just as a big tear ran down her 
cheek. He straightened up quickly and stepped in 
front of her as the elevator stopped. 

" Rather rude man ; " thought a lady inside, as 
she moved back for Maude ; but the girl understood 
her father, and while his broad back had shielded 
her, she had regained her self-possession and the 
trace of the tear was gone. 

When they reached the door of her little parlor 
she said, " Come in, Popsie," using the name she 
had invented for him in her childish years. " Come 
in. I'd rather talk to you than to anybody you 
dear old thing ! " and the girl pinched her father's 
arm and laid her cheek against his sleeve. " It 
isn't late, Popsie mine, and I'm not at all sleepy ; 
come in for a while and make love to me. I'm 
lonesome ; " she added, trying to laugh and look 
saucy. 

" All right, you little scamp," said her father. 
" I'll come in ; but from the looks of things down- 



2s this your Son, my Lord? 79 

stairs I don't think that you're exactly suffering for 
anybody to make love to you ; " and he turned on 
the gas and dropped into a chair by the table. 
Maude had seated herself on the sofa. She began 
taking off her gloves and pulling their long soft 
wrinkles across her knees to smooth them. She did 
not reply or look up and her father went on : 

" But I don't blame 'em. You were the prettiest 
girl there and ," Maude tried to look up and smile, 
but only succeeded in starting a tremulous little 
quiver which died on her lips. " And you're the 
best, too, you dear child," added Mr. Stone. 

The girl flung herself down, buried her face in 
the pillow and began to sob convulsively. With 
that astonishment which seems to be a part of all large 
natured men, who think they understand the women 
nearest them, her father looked at her a moment, 
in half bewilderment, and then walked to the 
window and stared helplessly out across the street 
at the brilliantly lighted cigar store where young 
men and old were moving about and puffing at 
the weed. He stood there whistling softly and 
wondering what to do next, and how to make 
Maude believe that he did not know she was weep- 
ing about Fred Harmon. 

There was a rap at the door; but the noise of 
the street drowned it for the ears of the father, and 
Maude sobbed on unheeding. The door had not 
been securely closed and had pushed open a mere 



80 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

crack ; then, suddenly, as the man who had rapped 
heard the sound of weeping within, he stepped 
quickly inside and with long strides reached the 
lounge and flung himself on his knees by the girl's 
side and said, in a choked and penitent voice : 

" Maude, Maude, darling, may I come back ? " 

The girl sprang to her feet with wide, tear-stained 
eyes, into which there came a sudden rush of ten- 
derness and joy. 

" Fred ! Fred ! Fred ! " she cried, and lifting his 
face in her hands she kissed his forehead, and he 
was forgiven ; and being forgiven felt that he had 
acted sublimely. 

Mr. Stone had turned from the window when 
he first heard the young man's voice, with a face 
white with anger. At sight of his daughter now, 
he groaned aloud, and set his lips so firm and close 
that they were but a purpling line in his unhappy 
face. 

" Forgive me, Maude ; it was not my fault. 
Truly, as I live, it was not. I want to tell you 
everything, everything, everything ; " the young 
fellow said, still on his knees and with his arms 
about her waist. There were tears in his fine eyes, 
and he did not try to hide them. He felt that he 
was a hero, and he was sincerely moved by the 
contemplation of his own lofty conduct. Maude 
took her dainty lace handkerchief and wiped his 
eyes, with that reverent awe that women feel for 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 81 

tears in men. Then she slipped the bit of lace, 
made holy by his tears, into the bosom of her 
gown and pressed it to her white and dimpled flesh 
with something like the ecstasy and yearning with 
which a mother holds her first-born child. Fred's 
tears ! They were the first she had ever seen him 
shed, and they should be the last. Her love should 
make his splendid eyes the home of smiles and joy 
forever, and she kissed them both reverently, to 
consecrate the silent vow. 

Fred had meant to tell her everything as he 
said ; but when she took it for granted that he had 
followed her here for that single purpose, his well 
grounded habit of evasion and concealment deci- 
ded him not to offer, just then, the explanation that 
was on his lips when the first rush of tenderness 
had swept over him, as he heard her sob and saw 
her lying there, wretched, he knew for him. 

He had seen her father kiss her, at the elevator; 
he had seen ho w bravely she had tried to master 
herself. He had heard her father's roughly tender 
badinage. He had followed and now ? His in- 
stinct and training of caution and evasion were 
beginning to overwhelm him again. He would not 
tell her, just yet, the truth about why he had 
come West, and that his heart had conquered only 
when he saw her again and saw that she was not 
happy. She believed that he had simply followed 
her first to her home and then here. Why tell 



82 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

her otherwise ? And then, her father might not 
place so generous a construction on this sudden 
change of purpose, if he told the simple truth. 
Then, too, PVed knew that it was crude to be too 
baldly direct and to be crude was to be a cad. 
No, he would not he would omit that part of hi.s 
confession, just now. 

Mr. Stone stepped toward them. Fred had not 
before noticed him, and felt a distinct sense of relief 
that he had not been too precipitate about that con- 
fession. Taking Maude's hands from her lover's 
face, he drew her to a seat beside him and putting 
one arm about her said, in a voice that struck Fred 
as peculiarly unsympathetic : 

"Well, sir?" 

It was like a cold plunge to Fred, and he hated 
cold plunges. 

There are several ways of saying " Well sir " ; but 
Mr. Stone's voice did not lend itself to any of the 
more attractive tones, and there was a distinctly 
chilly note in it just now, Fred thought. Then 
back in the shreds of ideas that crowded about 
in his brain the absurd one occurred to him that 
it was a very deep and unpromising " well " for this 
particular " sir " to clamber out of. The notion 
amused while it steadied him. He got upon his 
feet rather shamefacedly and took a chair by the 
table. He wished that Mr. Stone would say some- 
thing else, or that Maude would give him a start. 



Is this your /Sow, my Lord? 83 

It would be easy enough to explain it all to her ; 
but her father that was another thing, and Fred 
was beginning to feel about as uncomfortable as he 
had ever felt in his life. He bit his mustache and 
looked hard at the table and then at the floor. 

" Well, sir ? " repeated Mr. Stone ; and in spite 
of his distress, Fred could not keep the ridiculous 
idea out of his mind that the well had been sunk 
several feet deeper ; but he said very humbly, and 
without looking up : 

" There has been a terrible misunderstanding, and 
in one sense I was to blame ; but I have come to 
if I could if I might talk to Maude alone I 
am sure I feel certain that she would forgive me, 
and that I could make it all right with her." 

He had brightened perceptibly, as this idea had 
worked itself out in his mind. Maude made a 
movement to release herself from her father, so that 
he might go ; but he did not move. She looked 
up and was surprised at the expression on his face. 
She did not wonder that Fred was awkward and 
confused Fred who was always grace and ease 
itself. She began to speak, but her father checked 
her. 

" No, sir," said he, addressing Fred ; " you will 
make your explanation to both of us. If you were 
the man you ought to be, you would have tried to 
make it first to me alone, instead of to her alone ; 
but now that we are both here go on." 



84 Is this your Son, my Lord 

Fred flushed. This was a rather ungentle way 
to behave and talk. " The man he ought to be," 
indeed! And this uncultured Western man, who was 
not even a graduate of a " one-horse " Ohio College, 
had the presumption to say such a thing to Mr. 
Fred Harmon, late of Harvard, idol of Beacon 
Hill, highpriest of culture ! But after all, how 
could he expect anything better? His mother 
had told him how it would be ; but his overwhelm- 
ing love for Maude would undoubtedly enable him 
to endure even this sort of thing ; but why couldn't 
Maude have been born on the Back Bay, or at 
least, on Murray Hill ? And why, oh, why need 
she have a hopeless cad for a father? Fred felt 
like a Christian martyr, and he even doubted 
whether Maude could fully comprehend the depth 
of sacrifice he was making for her dear sake. But 
he would force himself to bear it all, for she was to 
be the reward, and Maude was far more beautiful 
in this exquisite ball dress than he had ever before 
seen her. It was strange, Fred reflected, that these 
Western girls knew how to dress so well. So he 
told a very pretty story, indeed. He warmed to it 
as he went on, and did not fail to blame himself in 
this or that, with well chosen words, and as if the 
pain of it were great. 

Did he tell the truth ? Most assuredly. 

The whole truth ? Most assuredly not, nor the 
half of it, nor the quarter, nor the tenth part ; but 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 85 

the truth he did tell, as it behooves a gentleman, 
and Maude and her father listened with widely di- 
vergent emotions. She felt that the nobility of 
soul that enabled him to lay bare his whole life, and 
even seem to blame the mother he adored, was 
magnificent. It thrilled her into silence. 

Her father's silence was pitched in a different 
mood. His keen eye saw, his shrewd sense com- 
pared, his experience and observation lent wings to 
an imagination already aroused by fear for his 
daughter's future. 

When Fred finished and dropped his head on his 
arms, which were outstretched on the table in an 
abandon of self reproach and supplication, Mr. 
Stone spoke for the first time. 

" Sit still, Maude. Wait. I have something to 
say first. When I am done, if you want to go to 
him and ' comfort ' him, you may." He laid rather 
unpleasant stress on the word " comfort," Fred 
thought. It was one of Mr. Stone's vulgar habits 
to italicize his spoken words. People on the Back 
Bay did not do that. They spoke of the last mur- 
der, or even of a terrible calamity in their own 
families, with the same placid sweetness of inflec- 
tion as if it were a stage presentation for their en- 
tertainment. Fred wondered vaguely how long 
it would take Maude to learn that art. 

" But, my daughter, my darling, I am afraid that 
your blunt old father will hurt you a little. I have 



86 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

heard him, now he must hear me ; then you may 
take your choice between the two stories. He has 
told it his way. I will tell it mine." 

Maude smiled up at her father. If that was all, 
she could wait ; and Fred, too, he could not object 
to that. She pressed the bit of lace that had 
touched her lover's tear-stained face, close to her 
bosom, and did not struggle again to free herself 
from her father's arm. Mr. Stone went on 
bluntly. 

" You were born of a mother whose ambition for 
position for you has been the whole thought of her life. 
She has sacrificed everything for it, even herself. 
And you let her. You nursed it from her breast. 
Before you could walk, you understood that you must 
pretend to certain things, if you did not feel them, 
that you must evade other things, if they were not 
looked upon as good form, as you call it, that is, if 
they were not strictly conventional, the way the 
people acted whom you have been trained to 
copy." 

Fred made. a movement to speak; but Mr. Stone 
checked him. 

" Wait till I'm done. I'm not going to say 
anything disrespectful of your mother. I have 
no doubt she is a very good woman, from her 
outlook. I don't blame her, and I don't blame 
you." Maude stroked her father's hand and began 
to brighten again. Fred cleared his throat and 



7s this your Son, my JLord? 87 

looked more cheerful than he had since he entered 
the room. The sailing was not going to be so 
rough after all. 

Mr. Stone began again very calmly : " I say that I 
do not blame your mother; but that does not 
change the result of the training on your character, 
young man. You have laughed, and told me, your- 
self, that when you had certain boyish desires to 
play with the grocer's son, you either had to pretend 
that you hadn't the desire, or else gratify it on the 
sly. Why ? Not at all because he was a bad boy, and 
would teach you to lie, or steal, or be unkind, or a 
little imp, generally; but solely because his father 
sold dried apples and codfish. You might play 
with another boy all day, not because he was frank, 
and kind, and honest, but because his people went 
in a certain set. You learned, before you were ten 
years old, two lessons that show in everything you 
do or say, to-day. One was to evade all unpleasant 
facts in your own nature by covering them from 
the eyes of others, not at all by correcting the 
fault. And the other was to value people wholly 
by surface measures, and never by their real worth. 
Another thing you have learned : to demand or 
expect everything, and to return only so much as 
you see fit. You have no conception of reciprocity 
in anything. The world is your fish, and you bait 
your hook with a manufactured fly. Now, when 
Maude was ten years old, she judged her playmates 



88 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

wholly by the way they behaved by their truth- 
fulness and kindness. If she wanted to play with the 
washer- woman's girl, no one objected in the least, 
after we were sure that the child was honest, and 
kind, and good. Maude liked her playmates for 
what they were. Who they were had nothing what- 
ever to do with it. So you see that at that early age 
there was a basis of character formed in each of 
you that is totally unlike and not only that, but 
wholly antagonistic." 

Fred smiled across at Maude and she. shook her 
head ; but her father appeared not to notice either, 
and went on. 

" As you grew up, you have told me many 
things that show it, all your valuations of charac- 
ter, acts, and people were made on this basis: 'Are 
they good form on the Back Bay?' Then there 
was another test you learned to make a little later 
on : ' "Will it be found out? If it is kept secret, or 
found out, by the Back Bay men only, will it 
make any difference in my social standing?' Even 
after you loved my daughter, it never occurred to 
you to be troubled because you could not offer her 
as clean and pure and holy a life and love as she 
was giving you." At the word " holy, " from Mr. 
Stone's lips, Fred looked up. He had no concep- 
tion of the word apart from certain phrases of 
theological import, and he knew that Maude's 
father gave scant heed to these. Had he, at last, 



Is this your Son^ my Lord? 89 

caught this man in the act of juggling with words 
in regular conventional fashion ? 

"You have absolutely no comprehension of 
moral values apart from creeds, social require- 
ments, or custom. You have no prejudices, as you 
call them, in favor of one line of action rather than 
another, unless it is laid down in the Blue Book, 
and warranted to wear an evening coat, or go to 
the Episcopal Church, in whose creed you have no 
more belief than I have, and yet you are willing to 
vow devotion to it, and profit by the result. In 
any other business in this world, that would be 
called obtaining money by false pretences." 

Fred moved uneasily, and Maude said reproach- 
fully : " Why, papa ! " 

" Wait," said Mr. Stone, " I am not through yet. I 
want to state the case fully, and in plain English. I 
said awhile ago that I do not blame you. Neither do 
I blame your mother who made you that way ; but 
for all that, young man, I am compelled to say that 
the more I've thought of it lately, and I've thought 
of very little else, you may be sure the more I don't 
like the job she turned out. I can't have a great 
deal of confidence in a man whose character is all on 
the surface. I like a little foundation. I'd like a 
few prejudices in favor of the realities of life for 
their own sakes. I should not object, if you were 
an Episcopalian, mind you, or any other sort of a 
Christian, if you were honest in it ; but I have no 



90 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

use for the layman who holds his creed for revenue 
only ; and for the clergyman who accepts a salary 
from honest believers for mystifying and explain- 
ing away all there is of real meaning in the plan of 
salvation, my contempt is simply unbounded." 
This was a new theory to Fred, and it struck him 
as worthy of some thought ; but he smiled as he 
thought how this man of uncouth speech expressed 
what he had been taught to call "the higher 
criticism of progressive theology." Obtaining 
money by false pretences, indeed ! 

" I'd like to feel that the man who marries my 
daughter will keep clear of dishonest and dishonor- 
able people whether in or out of the pulpit 
on some more important grounds than the sort of 
coat they wear, or the brand of their cigars. I'd 
like to go to sleep nights feeling confident that he 
wasn't thrashing her, not simply because it isn't 
good form, or might be found out. In short, I'd 
like my daughter to niarry a man who is honorable 
and noble and true from the inside out and not from 
the outside in. I'd like him to be his own severest 
judge, and not do this or that to fit the opinions and 
dictates of somebody else", simply because they are 
the beliefs of somebody else who is fashionable. 
No man, sir, is fit to get married, no man has 
any right to ask a girl to believe in and rely on 
him, until he believes in and relies on himself. I 
don't want Maude to marry an echo, and more 



2s this your /Son, my Lord? 91 

than that, sir, she shall not until that echo has, at 
least, a true ring ! " 

He brought his fist down with a bang. Fred 
made a mental note of the expression, which he 
thought quite effective from a purely artistic 
outlook. He was not at all touched by its bear- 
ing upon himself. Indeed, life was to him almost 
entirely a succession of mental gymnastics; but 
he was missing the next act, Mr. Stone was still 
talking : 

" and while the echo of a good man whose 
own life rings clear and true to himself, might not 
be so bad, by gad, the echo of an echo of a theo- 
logical trimmer and a social shadow is more than I 
can stand, and more than I will have ! " 

He had grown excited as he talked, and now he 
sprang to his feet and began pacing the floor, still 
keeping his arm about Maude. He almost carried 
her with him, and as she passed Fred her soft silk 
drapery caught his knees and roused him far more 
than her father's words had done. He had been 
vaguely conscious that a wonderful photograph was 
being taken ; but he did not think that there were 
many features turned to the camera that were a 
discredit to himself, after all. At least, he compre- 
hended that there were angles from which Maude 
might like the picture a good deal less if her father 
had only known it and had turned the light that 
way. As for himself, life was more or less given 



92 Ts this your /Son, my Lord? 

over to a contest of wits, and he had not had his 
trained for nothing. Knock-down fists were one 
thing ; but the dexterous use of foils was quite 
another, and Maude's father could not hope to cope 
with him there and Maude was very beautiful ; it 
was worth while to 

As if reading the thought before it was formed, 
Mr. Stone broke out again, as he turned to retrace 
his steps : 

" Do you know why you love Maude ? Because 
she is beautiful." 

Fred smiled up at her with no sense of failure in 
his valuation. " Simply and solely because she is 
beautiful to look at. She pleases your artistic sense. 
The soul of the girl, her honor and truth, her 
mental and moral needs, her ideals and longings, are 
nothing to you, less than nothing ; they are preju- 
dices, to be got rid of. 

" Her true ring on every subject means to you lack 
of training. You think when she is your wife that 
you will show her how uncouth it is to be natural, 
how vulgar to be real. No doubt you would, and 
the result would be a blasted, wretched, disappointed 
life for the poor child who, if she dropped her ideals 
and followed your lead would scorn herself and you 
at every step, or else she would learn to be as hollow, 
and vapid, and characterless as you and your con- 
ventional set are, and learn to blame her father and 
be ashamed of her mother for having made a true 



Ts this your Son, my Lordf 93 

woman of her, instead of a fictitious copy of some- 
body else." 

Maude had taken his hand in hers, and she lifted 
it to her lips and kissed the great palm tenderly, 
and, with tears on her cheeks, laid her flushed face in 
his hand as she had done years ago to sleep, and 
said brokenly : 

" Father, please please let Fred go now. I 
want to think. You have put words to I have 
had thoughts, at times, O, father, I am so tired 
to-night, won't you both go now, and No, not 
together. Good-night, Fred," and she let him 
kiss her cheek as he passed. 

"When she heard the elevator door close behind 
him, she took her father's wretched face in her 
hands and tried to comfort him. " Dear old father," 
she said, " dear old father, go now. Good-night, 
don't be afraid you have hurt me, I can talk to you 
to-morrow ; but not now, not now." 

He gathered her up in his arms as he used to do 
and held her against his heaving breast. His voice 
was husky, and had lost all the harshness that 
vexed the ears of his would-be son-in-law. 

" Little girl, I didn't want to hurt you ; but oh, 
it would break my heart, daughter, to see you 
deceived and unhappy. I thought it best to speak 
now." 

" Yes, yes, father," she said, with her great 
eyes shining and intense. "Yes, yes ; but go to bed 



94 7s this your Son, my Lord? 

now go. I must think. It is all so terrible. I 
must think, to-night." 

Down stairs the last strains of music were heard, 
as Mr. Stone closed the door of Maude's room be- 
hind him, and the major was asking the young 
captain : " Where is that lovely girl I saw with 
you a while ago ? Miss Stone, wasn't her name ? 
Where is she from ? Oh, I see. She and her father 
and Ball were all your guests then. You came 
from Grand Rapids yourself, didn't you ? Well, I 
envy you. It lightens one's heart only to see such 
a girl, and hear her laugh. How happy and bright 
she is ! The days of youth are the days of light 
hearts, hey, captain ? " 

"Yes. Oh, of course," replied the captain, 
somewhat abstractedly, "To be sure. I should 
say so decidedly. Quite a success the ball. Bril- 
liant affair. Good-night." 

As the captain turned to leave the rotunda, he 
met Fred. 

" Beg pardon," said that gentleman with a smile. 
" I was looking for two gentlemen. I am a bit 
short-sighted and I mistook you for one of them. 
But perhaps you will go with me, or at least put 
me on the right track ; " and he asked for the most 
fashionable gilded house in the city, quite as simply 
as he inquired his way to the leading church two 
days later. Fred had no prejudices. He went to 
both. He believed in sustaining all well-estab- 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 95 

lished institutions. He looked upon these two as 
quite essential in a Christian civilization, and re- 
gretted that our unformed American conditions 
did not, as yet, recognize that both should be at- 
tached to the State. He thought it was far better 
in the countries where the devotees of the one and 
the inmates of the other were required to take the 
sacrament at stated intervals in order to retain 
their status in the community. 

" But no doubt America will come to it in due 
time ; " thought he, " and one must not expect too 
much from so young a country as ours." 



96 Is this your Son^ my Lord? 



CHAPTER VII. 

" Surely, surely the only true knowledge of our f ellowman is that which 
enables us to feel with him which gives us a fine ear for the heart-pulses 
that are beating under the mere clothes of circumstance and opinion. 
Our subtlest analysis . . must miss the essential truth, unless it be 
lit up by the love that sees in all forms of human thought . . . the 
life-aud-death struggles of separate human beings." George Eliot. 

" How perilous, after all, is the state of man. It is the work of a life to 
build a great and splendid character. It is the work of a moment to 
destroy it utterly, from turret to foundation stone. How cruel hypocrisy 
is!" Robert G.lngersoll. 

"All phenomma are necessary. No creature in the universe, in its 
circumstances and according to its given property, can act otherwise than 
as it does act." John Aforley. 

When Preston Mansfield reached the little sta- 
tion known as the " depot" at his old home, he 
looked about to coe if a carriage had been sent to 
meet him. Presently he saw a smiling face lean 
out of the family trap, as he called it, and in an- 
other instant he was sitting beside his cousin Nellie 
and had the reins in his hands. 

He had not kissed her as he used to do, and Nellie 
had not asked why he did not, nor offered to kiss 
him as she would have done three years before ; but 
they were unmistakably glad to see each other, and 
Preston looked happier than he had looked for a 
long time. 

" How are the folks? How'd you happen to come 
alone, Nellie ? " he asked all in a breath, and then 
regretted his last question ; but she appeared not 
to hear it, although her color rose somewhat. 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 97 

"They are all well, except Julie. She, poor 
child, seems half sick all the time. I think she 
needs a change. I wish she could go to New 
York with you next time, Preston." 

" She can if you will go, too, Nellie ;" he said, 
and then they both blushed furiously. He noticed, 
with a sinking at his heart, that she changed the 
subject immediately. 

"Isn't that the doctor who used to live here, 
Pres., when we were children ? The one you liked 
so much ? I heard he was in town. I wonder if 
he has come back to live." 

"I don't know," said Preston, answering the 
last question first. "Yes, it is the same old 
chap. I saw him in New York a while ago. 
He is a queer lot ; " and he bowed somewhat 
moodily as he drove past, just as I was opening 
the door of my new office ; for I had decided to 
establish myself again in this town after my return 
from France. 

" How, ' queer' ? " asked Nellie, bent on keeping 
the talk going ; but the question seemed portentous 
to the young fellow, who was in no mood just then 
to recall the past nightmares of his life. The pres- 
ent was too perfect to mar with memories. 

" Oh, I don't know," said he. " When I met 
him in New York a while back he did not speak of 
coming West. How long has he been here? 
What did he come for?" 



98 -Zs this your Son, my Lord? 

" I don't know," said Nellie, " I only heard of 
his return the other day. I'm not sure I should 
have recognized him. Did his wife die that time ? 
Oh, no, I believe it was her mother. But there 
is little Julie coming to meet us. Hop in, Julie. 
You couldn't wait for him to get home, could 
you?" 

" Hello, old girl," said Preston, kissing her as she 
put her foot on the step. "I hear you're not well. 
"What does this mean ? Can't have that sort of 
thing, you know." 

It might have been two weeks later when, as I 
was driving alone one day, I took it into my head 
to turn into the cemetery a place I generally 
avoid, on the ground that I shall no doubt be 
obliged, later on, to pass quite enough time within 
its quiet precincts. The place had greatly changed 
in these last few years. Pretentious shafts had 
taken the place of simple slabs, and everywhere 
were evidences of the wealth that had come to 
many of those who in the not very distant past 
were fettered by poverty. I drew rein in front of 
a magnificent monument, a-top of which was an 
angel pointing heavenward, and on one side of the 
tablet I read : " Not dead, but gone before." On 
another side : " He giveth His beloved sleep ; " and 
then could my eyes deceive me ? the name of 
Joe Furgison ! 

In spite of myself I laughed aloud. 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 99 

"I don't wonder you laugh, doctor;" said 
Preston Mansfield, coming up from the other side 
of the buggy. "Joe was shot by a woman 
in a row at the Chippy Dance House. He was 
buried from there; but the Furgisons' are rich 
now, and oh, well, you know how those things 

go." 

" Yes, I know ; " said I, looking up at the angel ; 
and I laughed again. Joe Furgison figuring as one 
of " His beloved " struck me as peculiarly droll. 

" But get in, Preston, and drive around with me. 
If there is anything else as interesting as that, I 
don't want to miss it. Show it to me." Then 
with sudden compunction I added, " But what are 
you doing here ? Perhaps you are in no mood for 
idle gossip." 

" Oh, that's all right ;" he replied without a tremor, 
and climbing into the buggy, he took the reins. 
" I'm just fixing up the old man's grave so it will 
look as ridiculous as Joe Furgison's. We are all 
alike only in my case I have to do it to comfort 
mother and the girls. Of course they believe in it 
and in him, and God knows I wish I did ; but 
every man in this town feels about father's tomb- 
stone just as you and I do about that angel business 
on Furgison's. If there's anything at all in religion, 
it's an infernal outrage for the preachers to help 
this sort of thing along as they do ; for there isn't 
one in this town who doesn't know all about it. 



100 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

And if there isn't anything in religion well In 
either case what do you think of the morals of it, 
from your outlook ? " 

" Your father had many good characteristics, 
Preston ; " said I, evasively, " and it really seems 
Do you think you are quite fair to him ? " 

He turned upon me almost savagely. 

" 1 should think you would be about the last man 
to ask that question, doctor. Fair to him ! Was 
he fair to me ? Look what he has made of me 
look ! I don't know what your religious notions 
are, doctor ; but at least I do know that you didn't 
agree with him in his moral training of me. "Well, 
I don't, either. He has ruined my whole life, 
deliberately." 

I made a movement of protest, but he went on 
bitterly : 

" You know that it was deliberate ; for you gave 
him a pretty severe object lesson with Alice. Well, 
he didn't take it. I wish to God he had, for I 
really had no tendency to be a to go to the devil. 
Strange to say, I hadn't inherited a drop of that 
kind of blood, and I believe that I might have 
grown up so that I could look any decent woman 
in the face without remembering that if I married 
her I would have to lie to her every hour of my life 
as long as we both lived. I hate to lie. I always 
did. It gives me a sense of disgust and physical 
discomfort, It may be silly ; but it is a fact, and 



Is this your /Son, my Lord? 101 

one reason I prefer to stay away from home 
is that every act, every word, every look of mine 
has to be a lie. Mother and my sisters and 
and the rest believe in me. I know what they 
think of other fellows who are not so bad as I 
am, not half so bad as father was. Well, how do I 
keep their respect and confidence ? How did he ? 
By lying. Now, do you know, doctor, I've got a 
prejudice, as Harmon says, against a marriage that 
isn't equal; that is built upon false pretences on 
one side and ignorance on the other ; that de- 
pends for future happiness wholly on the continued 
and successful mendacity of one party to the con- 
tract. I don't know where I ever got such an 
idiotic prejudice ; but I seem to have been born 
with it, and he damn him ! " said the young fel- 
low, with his face livid and his lips trembling as he 
pointed to the grave of his father, " he, damn 
him ! has robbed me of myself ! " 

" Preston, Preston ! " said I, shocked and sur- 
prised beyond words to express, " give me the reins 
again. Let us drive on. This is no place for you 
just now." 

" Just now ! " he exclaimed bitterly, still holding 
the reins. "Do you suppose this feeling is new 
to me ? I have cursed him with every breath I 
have drawn, ever since I knew what love is. If I 
had been differently made I suppose I wouldn't 
care j but I believe I was made to be an honest 



102 Is this your /Son, my Lord? 

man, doctor, and now, look at me ! I know there 
are at least two children in New York that belong 
to me. I know that their mother is as good 
better than I am for all she makes her living on 
the street now. I know that if any good girl in all 
this world could see my whole life laid out bare and 
true just as it is, and has been I know she 
would as soon marry a leper. Whose fault is it ? 
His.! Well, what is to be done ? I asked Harmon 
that question the last night we spent together 
you remember Fred Harmon of Boston ? < Don't 
tell her,' said he. ' Women don't understand such 
things, anyhow. Then, if she ever finds it out 
which isn't likely it will be easy enough to con- 
fess some little part of it and plead for mercy. 
Women like to be merciful. It is their forte.' 
Well, now, that satisfied Harmon. He would feel 
no sense of degradation in living on the benefits of 
deception. It doesn't hurt him in the least to pre- 
tend and lie to the girl he says he loves. Talk 
about striking a woman ! He'd call a man pretty 
low down who would do that if he used his fists. 
Men generally would. They call it cowardly tak- 
ing advantage of her weakness and of his strength. 
Well, suppose we just leave the fists out, what 
then? Does he any the less take advantage of her? 
Doesn't he take it in a thousand ways where she has 
no defence, whatever, not even that of the police 
court, which ghe would have in the other case ? 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 103 

" No, doctor, I don't want to marry any woman, 
and know that I've got to take advantage of her. 
I might be willing to steal from, or lie to, or 
systematically deceive a woman I did not love; 
but " He sprang out of the buggy and threw the 
lines to me. Five feet away stood the splendid 
granite shaft he had erected to the memory of his 
father. He lifted his arm, and clinching his fist 
shook it first at the monument, and then at the sod 
beneath, and from between set teeth said with a 
ferocity and intensity terrible to witness: 

" Damn him ! damn him ! damn him ! He has 
robbed me of myself ! " 

A moment later I heard the sound of weeping, and 
of childish voices engaged in some sad argument. 

"Get back into the buggy, Preston," I said. 
" Some one else is here and there are children cry- 

ing." 

But the young fellow stepped across the path, and 
looked over a box-wood hedge from behind which the 
voices came. I waited in silence, surprised that he 
would listen. In a moment he turned and beckoned 
to me. I went to him noiselessly. Lying behind 
the hedge, flat on his back, with hands crossed on 
his breast and eyes closed, was a small boy, and by 
his side a smaller one, weeping and pleading. 

" Oh-o-o-o, don't die, Willie, don't die ! Open 
your eyes! Oh-o-o-o, please, please, please don't 
die ! Oh-o-o-o wah-o-o ! " 



104 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

The corpse revived sufficiently to talk, but the 
eyes remained closed and the hands clasped. 

" I must. I have to, ah ! ahou-o-oh ! "said he 
mournfully, and in utter hopelessness. He closed 
his lips again, albeit in his vain effort to hold his 
breath he puffed both cheeks out in a manner most 
unseemly in one about to pass the golden gates, 
whose body was even at that moment disposed for 
the journey. 

" Oh-o-o ! ohou-o-o-o-o wh-o-o-o ! " sobbed the 
smaller boy, throwing himself across the body of the 
would-be suicide whose superfluous breath refu- 
sing to be held under such trying conditions, burst 
from his lips explosively, letting the inflated cheeks 
down with a sudden collapse. 

" Uh-m-m-wah ! " he groaned, pushing the smaller 
one off, and carefully disposing his limbs again, 
meanwhile keeping an eye on his toes to be sure 
that they pointed up in proper style. 

" Uh-o-o-m-m-m, oh-o-o ! I must, I must ! Don't 
bother me. I've got to die, ob.-o-o, me!" His 
voice was very doleful, indeed, and his whole 
appearance was indicative of the utmost dejection. 

I glanced at Preston Mansfield. His face was 
still very pale ; but a sense of the absurd twinkled 
in his eyes, and held his attention in spite of the 
recent storm within his own breast. Meantime the 
smaller boy wept on and pleaded with his brother 
to reconsider his ill-advised resolution prematurely 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 105 

to withdraw from the joys and sorrows of this 
life. He begged to know why he was tired of the 
world. At last the six -year -old sat up and ex- 
plained his case. 

" Oh-o-o-o, dear, oh dear ! I can't live. I've got 
to die, I'm so ashamed ! I didn't have but four 
cents, and I tried to buy a five-cent pistol with it 
oh-oh-o-o ! " He threw himself face down on the 
sod, unmindful for the moment which way his 
toes should point. From within encircling arms, 
his voice piped out again : 

" He thought I had another cent, oh-oh-o-o ! I 
wouldn't mind it if he hadn't known me. But he 
did, oh-oh-o-o-o ! And I had to tell him I didn't 
have only four cents, oh-o-o ! And he said, I guess 
you'd better run home, Willie White, and not try 
any of your tricks on me, ' oh-o-o ! " 

Overcome with shame, he once more stretched 
himself out, and folding his hands on his breast, 
essayed to hold his breath until death should re- 
lieve him of his sorrow and disgrace, and the 
three-year-old beside him began anew his plead- 
ings that his unfortunate brother try to etart in 
life again, and not allow himself to be crushed by 
his present calamities. 

I glanced at Preston, and then pitched a cent 
over the hedge. It fell on the face of the recum- 
bent figure. Both children looked devoutly up to 
heaven, said " Now I lay me," and scudded out of 



106 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

the enclosure to buy the coveted pistol and re- 
establish their blasted reputations. 

" I suppose that little devil was as unhappy as 
any of us, while it lasted," said Preston, as we got 
into the buggy. 

" No doubt, no doubt," I replied ; " and is it not a 
good thing, after all, that we can't hold our breath 
long enough to stop it altogether, whenever we 
take the notion ? If we could, there wouldn't be 
people enough left to beg the others not to die." 

"Do you mean that everybody is at times so 
unhappy, doctor?" he inquired, presently. 

" Ask them," said I, smiling. There was a long 
pause. I drove rapidly up to the gate of his home. 
As he took my hand to say good-by, he held it a 
moment, and then said, as he dropped it suddenly, 
" Are you ? " 

Before I had time to reply, little Julie ran out and 
clasping her brother about both legs with her short 
fat arms tried to lift him from his feet. Before 
he regained his equilibrium I drove away, asking 
myself, "Ami?" 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 107 



CHAPTER VIII. 

" Perfect scheming demands omniscience." George Eliot. 

" Of course the young lady had beaux by the score, 
All that she wanted, what girl could ask more ? 
Lovers that sighed, and lovers that swore, 
Lovers that danced, and lovers that played, 
Men of profession, of leisure, and trade." Bret ffarte. 

"There was an idea in the olden time and it is not yet dead that who- 
ever was educated ought not to work ; that he should use his head and not 
his hands. Graduates were ashamed to be found engaged in manual labor 
in ploughing fields, in sowing or in gathering grain. To this manly kind of 
independence they preferred the garret and the precarious existence of an 
unappreciated poet, borrowing their money from their friends, and their 
ideas from the dead. The educated regarded the useful as degrading 
they were willing to stain their souls to keep their hands white." Robert 
O. Ingersoll. 

Fred Harmon's mother believed that that gifted 
young gentleman was travelling in the West with 
an eye single to two things : first, to free himself, 
and keep his whereabouts a secret from a certain 
designing girl and her family who looked upon him 
as their prey, and, secondarily, to " look about " 
as a prelude to a final settlement in life. Incident- 
ally he would visit several people, more or less 
desirable and useful to know. She had not given 
up the hope that after he had had his fling, 
he would return and study theology and take 
orders; but that part could wait. Meantime she 
economized and planned and figured in all conceiv- 
able ways to make both ends meet and at the same 



108 Js this your /Son, my Lord? 

time supply him with money to make a creditable 
appearance. Once or twice he had protested, 
feebly. 

" I have an offer to go into business with Bar- 
low," he wrote. " You will remember he was a 
senior when I was a soph. . . . He is, as he expresses 
it, 'in leather,' here in Chicago. I don't see how 
it is possible to keep this up, sail as near shore as 
you and father may. You must need all the little 
money you have, and father is too old to hope to 
continue in practice many years. I am half inclined 
O accept Barlow's offer. It would give me an im- 
mediate income, and leather, you know, is looked 
upon as respectable, even in Boston." 

Then followed a description of a social call he 
had made with Barlow the night before. The reply 
came promptly. 

" My son, do not think of such a thing as com- 
mitting yourself to Mr. Barlow, or to anyone, in 
any business, whatever. As you say, leather is an 
exception, here ; but oh, my son ! I so depend 
upon you to distinguish yourself, and how could you 
do that in leather? Do not give business a thought. 
Not one. I cannot have you prostitute your splen- 
did abilities and training to such base uses. 
Your description of your call amused me greatly. 
What uncouth people one does meet in those bor- 
der places ! He was governor, or judge, or some- 
thing from Illinois once, I think. Imagine it ! But 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 109 

keep the full account to amuse me when you come 
home. One cannot be too careful what one writes, 
since the awful Carlyle revelations. Even family 
letters take on an added horror. . . . And 
now, my son, my gifted boy, have a good time. 
Visit where you think it is judicious ; but remem- 
ber, dear, not to accept many favors from anyone 
who is likely to come here often. By the way, 
dearie, Pauline Tyler of Madison Avenue, New 

York, niece of Mrs. S , you know, is visiting 

in Chicago ; I enclose her address. Call upon her. 
You know she is recently back from abroad and is, 
never forget, son, who she is her grandmother 
was a Presidio. Be attentive. Your mother is 
thankful oh, so thankful to God, on her knees, 
that you are free again from those terribly vulgar 
people. Dear Pauline has not been in Boston 
much of late, but she is never vulgar. Her mother 
was a well born gentlewoman, and although her 
father was a New Yorker, Pauline has had many 
Boston advantages." 

By all of which it will be seen that Mr. Fred 
Harmon, late of Harvard, had so far improved 
upon his early training as to keep a few things 
even from his mother. He did not tell her of his 
meeting in St. Louis with Maude and her father 
any more than he had told Maude that he had 
dressed her father up in a new name when last he 
wrote to his mother, and accentuated his attributes 



110 Is this your Son, my Lordf 

so as to make it a very funny sketch indeed of 
a Western man. He had made this gentleman 
use bad English and angle openly for the atten- 
tions of certain irresistible young college men 
who had failed to pay court to his numerous 
buxom daughters, several of whom stood near 
the dooi and exclaimed " La, me ! " in very loud 
tones to everything these same irresistible young 
swells had said, as they stood with their legs 
very wide apart, at approved Harvard angle, and 
paralyzed the entire company by their exquisite 
manners. 

But then, Fred Harmon looked upon letter 
writing as one form of fiction, and he meant to be 
a master in fiction yet, whether he took holy orders 
or not. The night after Fred received his mother's 
letter, he, as became a dutiful son, called upon 
Miss Pauline Tyler at the handsome residence of 
her uncle on Michigan Avenue. He found that 
young lady much annoyed and so tremulously dis- 
turbed and vexed as to be almost on the verge of 
tears. She was delighted to see some one who 
could appreciate her emotions. Of course no one 
in Chicago could be expected to do so. Her uncle 
was kind and good, but " it can hardly be neces- 
sary, Mr. Harmon, for me to remind you that 
this is not Boston, nor even New York, and my 
unfortunate uncle has lived here for so many years 
that he has grown to be like ah, well, you can 



Is this your Son, my Lord? Ill 

fancy my distress, in my utter mental anu social 
isolation." 

" What can it be, Miss Tyler ? If I may be per- 
mitted to ask if you are willing to confide in me. 
I trust that I do not need to assure you that I shall 
be only too happy to serve you. My mother would 
be delighted to know that I could be of even 
trifling use to you in any way, and 

" Oh, there is nothing one can do so far as I see," 
she sighed. " That is the difficulty. That is one 
reason it is so painful to me, for you must know 
how painful, how shocking, such reports necessarily 
are to a young girl, Mr. Harmon." 

Fred had heard no reports at all, and was, there- 
fore, in a position, as he believed, to comfort her. 
He told her she must be distressing herself need- 
lessly, for he had not been away from Boston very 
long; he had stopped in New York, and in several 
cities this side, and he assured her that no report of 
any kind whatever had reached him, although he 
had met old college fellows in each place, and had 
had frequent interchange of communication with 
friends in Boston, all the while. But she could not 
be comforted. She was indignant, lofty, humili- 
ated, crushed, or defiant by turns. 

" And to think," she exclaimed, " just to think, 
that it should of all persons, be I, who am always 
so careful not to give the least clue, or hint, or 
cause for such gossip oh, it is cruel ! " And she 



112 Is this your Son, my X/ord? 

held her feather fan up between them, until a 
lace handkerchief found its way to her eyes, 
and she could venture to take both down and go 
on again. 

" Marry Count Cioli, indeed ! I never dreamed 
of such a thing. Why, he was never with me 
once, without mamma being present, and he was only 
ordinarily attentive to me, so far as I noticed. Of 
course I did know toward the last that some of 
those Americans (you know there are always 
Americans that one does not remember over there) 

I did know that they noticed his attentions to 
me; but " 

" If that is all, Miss Tyler, I do not see that you 
need be troubled ; and beside, if you wish it, I shall 
take it upon myself to deny the rumor upon all 
sides." She was overcome with gratitude. 

" Oh, if you would ! I I do not know how to 
thank you and your mother she knows every- 
body. I wonder if " 

" Certainly," said Fred, " just let me know what 
you want denied, and I am sure it can be done 
quite effectively." 

" But you see, I do not want to deny anything 
myself," she pouted. " It would look people 
might say " 

"Do not distress yourself," began Fred, " I " 
But she broke in : " If it were only the Count but 

you know all that talk about Prince Walsag 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 113 

was the cruellest, most dreadful gossip. There was 
really no ground for it at all. The day he had us 
dine at his castle he was more or less he was 
polite, of course ; but She tossed her head, 
and moved her hands quite impatiently. Fred 
looked at her sympathetically, but said nothing. 
Presently she began again : 

" I do not like to put all this on you ; but I do 
wish you would deny about Judge Vandergraft, too. 
We were not betrothed before I went abroad and 
that was not the reason I went. It must annoy the 
Judge dreadfully, all this talk, and " 

Fred had heard no talk whatever about any one 
of these three interesting cases ; but he began to 
think that here was really a much sought after young 
woman and the color of her hair was pretty. He 
took up a book and turned the leaves. Presently 
he said : " It must annoy you greatly ; but why 
be so beautiful? Why have such divine hair? 
The wages of sin is death, they say, but no more 
truly than that the wages of such glorious beauty 
as yours is well, let us say distracted lovers 
in all lands, and more or less talk. But I have 
not heard a word of it, not a line, not a letter," 
he added, with less sophistication than might have 
been expected. This last was due to Fred's youth, 
and Fred was young, although he tried to think 
that his experiences covered vast areas of things 
not down in books. 



114 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

"You really haven't?" she exclaimed. Then 
she took a new tack. " Ah, but I know you 
have. Tour kind heart and courteous instincts 
want to save my feelings. I understand. I know 
you have heard ; and that I refused Governor 
Tailor, too. Absurd ! He but why go into that 
old story, or the one about Major Ben Gifford. 
Why, I only met him three or four times and 
love at first sight is not fashionable in these days, 
is it, Mr. Harmon ? " 

The question surprised Fred, who was trying 
to keep count of her lovers that is of the ones 
she wished to have him say something or other 
about in connection with her. He evaded her 
question somewhat dextrously, therefore, and smil- 
ingly said : 

" I believe you are going to have to give me a 
list, if you keep on. Write out their names and 
titles. I'll forget half of them, and then my denial 
of your engagement will not do the least good, will 
it ? People will just say it is one of the others," 
and the young fellow laughed outright : but Miss 
Pauline took it quite seriously. 

" Take this," she said, handing him an ivory 
tablet. 

" Count Cioli." Fred wrote the name. " Prince 
Walsag, Judge Vandergraft, Governor Talbor, 
Major Gifford Have you got Major Gifford?" 
she asked, still quite seriously, and looked steadilv 



Ts this your Son, my Lord? 115 

into the fire as if trying to collect farther evidence. 
Then suddenly, as Fred was folding tip the tablet : 

"Oh, yes, I forgot about that horrid old affair 
that nearly broke my heart last year. They 
actually coupled my name with Senator Baldy. 
Just fancy ! Why he only but no matter about 
details. Put him down and deny that I am en- 
gaged to any of them. And please have your 
mother say how distressed I am by such reports. 
She might say that I came West to get rid of 
but she will know how, in her dainty way, to 
say just the right thing in the right place without a 
hint from me." 

Fred thanked her for the compliment to his 
mother and rose to go. 

" But you have told me nothing about yourself, " 
she said. " Don't go, or What am I saying ? 
I " and she blushed and turned half away. 

Fred promised to call again very soon, and with- 
drew. Once in the street he smiled and bit his 
mustache. 

" Whew ! " " ' Considerable train load,' as the 
brakeman said yesterday. But mother will believe 
every word of it so long as it is dear Pauline, 
and she will oh, well, the Count and the Prince 
and the Judge and the Governor and all the rest 
will find themselves famous, soon, because they 
are not going to be married to Miss Pauline 
Tyler ; " and he laughed again. 



116 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

As he turned off the gas that night, after writing 
a long letter to his mother, he chuckled to himself 
in the darkness, and said : " And to think that I, 
Fred Harmon, late of Boston, and of the D. K. E. 
Club, actually swallowed it till she got to the Major ! 
Frederick, my boy, you have one or more eye- 
teeth to cut yet ; and ' dear Pauline,' do learn to be 
more artistic and less comprehensive, as it were, 
in your scope ; " and the young scamp rolled over 
and slept as peacefully as a babe, and with as 
comfortable an estimate of himself. 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 117 



CHAPTER IX. 

His soul to his soul Is a law, and his mind Is a light to his mind. 
The seal of his knowledge is sure, the truth and his spirit are wed; 
Men perish, but man shall endure; lives die, but the life Is not dead. 
He hath sight of the secrets of season, the roots of the years and 

the fruits; 
His soul is at one with the reason of things that is sap to the roots. 

He can hear in their changes a sound as the conscience of consonant 

spheres; 
He can see through the years flowing round him the law lying under 

the years. 
Who are ye that would bind him with curses and blind him with 

vapor of prayer ? 
Your might Is as night that disperses when light Is alive In the air." 

Swinburne. 

" My dear' father," wrote Harvey Ball from 
St. Louis, some weeks after the military dinner, 
" when you ask me again to help decide on a pro- 
fession for Albert, or at least on the college best 
suited to develop him in a direction fitted to his 
ability and tastes, I find myself at a loss. I do 
not want to seem to lack interest. You will know 
it is not that, and I am always glad to relieve you 
and mother, if I can, of uncertainty and from per- 
plexing questions ; but the choice of a life's training 
or profession is a serious thing. You and mother 
did so well by me, that I do not see how I could do 
otherwise than say that Albert is in the best hands 
in the world, and I am tempted to let it go at that. 
But I know how earnest you are in wanting my 



118 Js this your Son, my Lord? 

opinion, and that I have no right to evade your 
need of me as you grow older, by paying you 
compliments however well deserved I know 
father. 

" You seemed surprised that I wrote you so vig- 
orously a while ago against West Point, when Al. 
took the soldiering craze ; and now that he is 
nearly through his preparatory work, and thinking 
about what next, you write me to cast a vote again, 
and you say that his notion now is Theology. I 
cast it against his choosing that, for the same reason 
that I objected to the Army. 

They are both dying professions. 

I do not mean to indicate that I think either 
one will be dead in my time, or in his ; but they 
are on the down grade, looked at from a sociological 
point of view. Training men for a life of battle 
to learn how to kill each other fastest and easiest 
is surely of the past. 

" Of course there is the other side, defence. But 
after all, you see, the profession is that of warfare 
of fighting. Well, the days of warfare, let us hope, 
are numbered. Did you ever stop to think what 
an absurd contradiction of terms is the expression 
" civilized warfare ? " Can you put two words to- 
gether that are more antagonistic? Just in pro- 
portion as we are civilized, we will not fight, 
and we are steadily approaching civilization. That 
is why I said to Albert, ' Do not be a professional 



Is this your Son^ my Lord? 119 

soldier. A soldier is always a relic of barbarism. 
Useful he may be, yet ; necessary he is, at times ; 
but still he is a relic of barbarism. Don't join 
a dying profession. Take one on the up grade. 
Take one that you will have to hurry to keep up 
with. Don't choose one that you must needs loiter 
behind, and hold back, if you stay on speaking terms 
with it. Select as a life's work something that is 
of the present and the future ; don't nail your flag 
to a sinking ship.' That is what I said to him 
about the Army. 

" Now as to his more recent notion, Theology. 
Here are exactly the same objections. War and 
Theology belong to the same age. They belong 
to the infancy of the race. The former is civilized 
by progress to the extent of gatling guns and 
torpedo boats ; the latter to the verge of sealing 
hell over, and reading the vicarious atonement and 
original sin out of good society. But in the nature 
of things, Theology must get its light from the 
past. It is based on a revelation long since closed. 
It cannot say, ' We expect to revise this until it fits 
our needs,' as in law, or medicine, or journalism. 
The religious law revelation is sealed. A 
clergyman who is honest, and let us hope Albert 
will be that, no matter what he undertakes, must 
go to the records of the dead past for his light, his 
inspiration, his guidance. The final appeal of any 
Orthodox clergyman must be the Bible. He cannot 



120 Is this your /Son, my Lord? 

doubt the justice of Jehovah, and be an Orthodox 
clergyman. He cannot question the goodness of the 
Jewish God, and be true to his ordination vows. He 
cannot throw over what may shock or pain him in 
the New Testament ; he cannot maintain his mental 
integrity in discussing the miracles, and be an hon- 
orable minister. In short, father, if Albert ever 
outgrows the creed of a dead age, he will either 
have to stifle his manhood and his mental integrity, 
or he will have to throw over his profession, one 
or the other. Every one knows how hard this last 
is for a minister to do. It means a loss, a struggle, 
a painful break with many years of his life, with 
many loved and loving friends, and often it 
means a vast deal more than that to a man so un- 
happily placed. 

" This is true in no other profession. He could 
take up Law, and if for any reason whatever hi.s 
maturer judgment should take issue with his youth- 
ful choice, he could change without suffering con- 
tumely and without moral or social violence, and 
the training he had received would not unfit him 
for other things, whereas a theological training does 
must. What I say of Law is true of Medicine, 
or Journalism. All these are professions of the 
present and the future. They all look brightly for- 
ward. They acknowledge no final appeal. They 
know no wall back or in front of which they may 
not go. Faults they have. They say so, and every 



Is this your Son^ my Lord? 121 

man is at liberty to try to offer a better way, a 
newer method, a truer system. These I say, are 
professions of the future. They have not crystal- 
lized. They acknowledge their need and intention 
to learn more, to get nearer to the truth as knowl- 
edge widens. A thousand years hence, they will 
be stronger, better, firmer than they are to-day. 
A thousand years hence War and Theology will be 
dead. 

" Talk about doing good ; look at Law. Where 
has a man a better chance to serve his fellow-men '? 
If his idea is to serve them singly, so to speak, he 
has in his practice ample opportunity. He can take 
the honest side. He can defend the weak. He can 
throw his energies and influence on the side of the 
honest administration of just laws. Or, if he seeks 
a wider field, he can work to get better laws en- 
acted, and bad ones repealed. He can discuss their 
defects with legislators and judges ; call attention 
to needed revisions ; in short, in a hundred ways he 
can make this world better for his having lived in 
it. He can leave his mark of progress on the age. 
He can help push the car along. 

" Or if he choose Medicine, what field could be 
broader, what opportunity greater, what inspiration 
grander, than to relieve those who suffer ? To help 
them by all the methods known to-day, with always 
an eye fixed on a better way, a newer discovery ; with* 
always an ear open to catch the first sound of hope 



122 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

for the crippled, maimed, heredity-cursed creatures 
all about him ? 

" Why, father, while people talk so much of the 
clergy doing good to their fellows, living for 
them and to save them, the honorable, progressive 
physician is actually, quietly doing it. If thei'e is 
a heaven, and crippled souls go there, surely, surely, 
there will be a Great Physician able to heal them 
if He made them. 

" It is here that sorrow, suffering, and pain need 
looking after. Man's highest duty is here. Do 
you know it is always an absurd idea to me that 
people who really believe in a personal God 
and don't simply pretend to seem to think that 
the Almighty made a mistake in locating them ? 
He put them here. It seems to me that is a pretty 
strong hint that right here is the place where 
their energies are needed. If He had wanted them 
to look after some other world, don't you think 
He would have put them nearer their post of duty? 
But it is so much easier to attitudinize and pose 
for some far-off place and time than it is to take 
up the duties that are plain, and common, and 
tedious, right here and now. In short, father, it 
seems to me, that if a man is a good healer of 
bodies, he is in a far nobler business than if he 
is a talker about souls. 

" Now I have come to Journalism, and, to be quite 
frank, I think it is the greatest opening of them all, 



Is this your /Son, my Lord? 123 

for ability and for progressive and far-reaching 
practical good. The field for all these is simply 
immeasurable. For stimulating and rewarding the 
weak and worthy, for succoring the helpless, for 
defending the oppressed, for hunting down crime, 
for restoring the lost, for giving credit to the virtu- 
ous and blame to the vile, its opportunities are 
boundless. 

"The Press is the guardian of free speech, that 
first and most important of all requisites of a true 
manhood and a real civilization. In all these and 
in a thousand other ways, Journalism is the best 
field for the best energies of good men. And in 
the main, the present tendency of the Press, aside 
from politics, is upward and forward, and light 
is ahead. A fearless Press is the hope of this na- 
tion. No people can be free without it, and no 
other agent on earth is so dreaded by wrong and 
vice. What wrong-doer fears the Pulpit? All 
wrong-doers fear a fearless Press. 

" If Albert would be a progressive man, there is 
no better, broader, surer way than this. If he 
would be an inspiration to the weak, a guide and 
guard, a comforter, a friend, where could he show 
it as here ? How find such scope for his energies, 
or so large an audience ? 

" Or if he means to be a scholar only, a literary 
man, to devote his life to the artistic rather than 
to the progressive side of the profession still 



124 Ts this your /Son, my Lord? 

here is a field which has its equal nowhere else, in 
the matter of opportunity ; and, if he ever should 
want to leave it, no harm is done. A kind good-by is 
given, and he takes his way unmolested, and with a 
training of incomparable value in any other walk 
of life. 

" No, father, do not let him commit himself, in 
his youth, to any calling which will bully him if he 
changes his mind, and hound him if he makes his 
changes known. 

" And as to West Point training, as I told you, 
I have no doubt that it is good, as purely arbitrary 
training, but unless he means to stay, I should not 
advise him to go into the Army ; and I do not be- 
lieve that Albert would ever be satisfied to be a 
professional fighter. If not, then, at the end of 
five years, he is adrift again with no practical ex- 
perience and five good years gone. How strange 
it is that almost every boy thinks first of these two 
professions, War and Theology, twins we have 
inherited from the ignorance and brutality of the 
past ! These two who were born of the same par- 
entage and are destined to sleep in the same grave ! 
Of the two, a soldier ; but of the two neither. 
That is my vote. 

" Now, father, this is a long letter, and there is no 
room for anything else ; but I shall be home again 
soon and we can talk all the other things over. Kiss 
the blessed mother for me, and give yourself a hug. 



Is this your /Sow, my Lord? 125 

Good-by. Remember me cordially to the Stones. 
Always tell me about them, all of them. 
Harvey." 

When Harvey's father read this letter to his 
wife, they decided to go over and read it to Mr. 
Stone and take him into their counsel, as had been 
their habit for years, in matters of moment. 

" What do you think of that letter, John ? " asked 
Mr. Ball, abruptly, when they were comfortably 
seated in the library of their neighbor. " It is 
from Harvey, and it has a good deal in it that 
makes mother feel uneasy ; and I can't say that I 
like it myself." 

Maude looked up surprised, and her father 
started perceptibly. The girl was pale, and un- 
like her old bright self. 

"Maudie, I did not know you had been sick, 
child," said Mrs. Ball, in a sweet motherly way. 
" Come over here and tell me about it. I declare 
you look right bad. If I had known, I would have 
brought some of that calf's-foot jelly you are so 
fond of. Dear me, how you and Harvey used to 
eat that jelly ! I never could make enough ; but 
this time Harvey has been away, and you have not 
been very neighborly since you went East last 
year." 

Maude brought a hassock to Mrs. Ball's side and 
sat down, laughing a little. She knew what the 
last sentence meant. 



126 Js this your Son, my Lord? 

" Now don't suppose I learned any new tricks in 
the East, Auntie Ball. If I had I should not have 
tried to utilize them here certainly not with 
you ; " and the girl stroked the old hand as she had 
done hundreds of times before, and ended with a 
little loving pinch at one finger. 

Maude could not remember when Mrs. Ball 
had not petted her, and exchanged household 
recipes with her mother. " Uncle Ball," as she 
had always called Harvey's father, had carried 
her on his shoulder many a time when Albert 
had objected, with more vigor than gallantry, to 
the usurpation of his prerogative by this small 
thing in petticoats. Albert wore something very 
like petticoats himself in those days ; but he knew 
that they were a . r,tle different from hers and 
that it would not be a great while until his would 
develop into those wonderfully superior garments 
worn by his brother Harvey. His emancipation, 
therefore, was to be only a question of time, while 
hers well, her clothes would only grow larger, 
not different. And this small philosopher, with 
eyes fixed on his big brother, and heart set on 
trousers, swelled with pride, and he consoled him- 
self, even if his father did take delight in perching 
Maude Stone on his broad shoulders, letting her 
pick peaches from the tree, away up nearly in the 
clouds. She wasn't going to have trousers by and 
by, any how. Those days seemed very far away 



Js this your Son, my Lord? 127 

now to Maude ; but not so far to " Auntie Ball " 
and Uncle." 

" Here, Maude," said her father, handing her 
the letter, quite as a matter of course, " I 
haven't ray glasses. You read it aloud to us all. 
Anything Harvey has to say interests you and 
mother." 

But a new feeling had begun to assert itself in 
Maude. She was not so sure about reading the 
letter. Harvey Ball had not written it with that 
expectation, and since the night of the military 
dinner in St. Louis, Maude had begun to feel that 
Harvey might object to having her read his home 
letters. She hesitated. 

" Yes, yes, child, read it ; " said Mr. Ball ; " you 
always could read his outrageous handwriting 
better than anyone else. I declare I never saw 
such pothooks. Why, in my time, if a young man 
hadn't been able to write better than that before 
he left the log schoolhouse, he would have been 
kept in and perhaps flogged every night of his life. 
Now look at that," said he, opening the letter; "just 
look at that word there. I'd never have made it 
out only by the sense, and that is a pretty uncer- 
tain way to read letters, when you do not know 
what sense they intend to convey. Now I called 
that word practice ' when I read it ; but it looks a 
great deal more like ' panics.' Now, where is the 
4 1,' I should like to know ? Good deal more like 



128 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

an *n.'" Maude looked over his shoulder and 
laughed. 

" Oh, uncle, there is the cross ; see ?" 

"Where? Where? Away over there? Well, 
what in the name of goodness does an < h ' in the 
next word want with a cross ? Go 'way, child, 
don't try to defend Harvey's writing, even if it is 
the same style as your own. You and Harvey 
always were two of a kind, though;" and the old 
man laughed and pinched Maude's cheek, which 
may have accounted for the sudden flush that came 
into it. " Now, father," said Mrs. Ball, reproach- 
fully, " don't abuse the boy's handwriting. If that 
is the only thing that he does wrong, we ought to 
be able to stand it ; " and the good, anxious soul 
sighed heavily. Mr. Stone noticed that Maude 
looked iip, startled by this new note of anxiety in 
the voice of Harvey's mother, and that she began 
to re-fold the letter that had been left in her 
hand. 

" Well," said he, stretching his legs out under 
the table and ramming his hands into the depths of 
his pockets ; " well, if there ever was a boy that 
hadn't anything wrong with him but his handwrit- 
ing, that boy is Harvey Ball. I'd be satisfied with 
him if he was my son, Aunt Martha, I can tell you 
that. He is one in a thousand. I " 

" Wait till you read that letter, John," sighed 
Harvey's mother. " I don't know what to think. 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 129 

Father says it will be all right; but well we 
never were very particular about sending him to 
Sunday-school, and maybe it is our fault. But it 
certainly is a queer letter. I think you will say so 
yourself, John, and I'm not so sure that you will 
want Maudie to read it, after all. Dear, dear, just 
to think that I should ever say that about one of 
Harvey's letters ;" and the perplexed mother shook 
her head and looked at her husband. 

" Nonsense," said that gentleman, forgetting for 
the moment his own position in the matter. " Stuff 
and nonsense. Mebby we can't agree with him 
and he knew it when he wrote it, like as not but 
he knew that we asked for his honest opinion, and 
he gave it. He doesn't make any explanations or 
apologies to us, either, for writing as he does. He 
seems to take it for granted that what we wanted to 
know was what he really did think and not what 
we would expect him to think, necessarily. I take it 
as a great compliment that he does not feel called 
upon to apologize since he thinks that way ; but 
what troubles me is that he seems to be so settled 
in it, that he talks as if it was self-evident, and not 
open to question even." 

" Well, why should a man apologize for telling 
the truth for giving his honest opinions?" asked 
John Stone, combatively. 

" That's what I always told Harvey," broke in 
that gentleman's father, apparently on both sides of 



130 Is this your /Son, my Lordf 

the question. " Say what you think, my boy, I'd 
tell him; and it don't make a mite of difference 
if it isn't the way I think. Why, before he was 
knee-high to a grasshopper we took different sides 
in polities. Gad, it did me good to hear the little 
imp argue ! Don't you remember, mother, that 
time he got the best of me about the Chinese 
question ? " And the old gentleman slapped his 
leg and laughed heartily at the recollection, albeit 
with an unaccustomed note of uneasiness. " Read 
it, Maude, read it," he added. "I guess you 
don't want to force Harvey to think your way, or 
else hide what he does think, hey, Miss ? " Mr. 
Ball always appeared to take it for granted that 
Maude had a part of the training of his son 
Harvey, devolving upon her. The girl used to 
accept the responsibility quite seriously, and dis- 
pensed wisdom to the young man, either at first 
or second hand, with the utmost freedom ; but 
now 

"Shall I, aunty?" she asked, rather dubiously. 
" Maybe Harvey would rather I shouldn't, if it is 
about if it is so important, and so " 

" I'll risk Harvey," broke in Mr. Stone. " Harvey 
in full regimentals, Harvey in fatigue, or Harvey in 
in his shirt sleeves, mentally and morally speak- 
ing, won't be far off the track, I'll stake a fortune on 
that. We may not agree with him and I do 
think he is away off politically ; but, by Jove, you 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 131 

can bet every time that he has got a good, sound, 
clean, manly reason for his opinions, and that he 
doesn't think it necessary to ask anybody's leave 
to think his own way. Read it, Maude, and let's 
see what is the matter." 

Mrs. Ball sighed, but nodded to the girl, who 
crossed the room and seated herself by the student 
lamp. " 'M-m," said she, smiling a little, as she 
opened and smoothed it out one page at a time. 
"Regular American poet, this letter, isn't it? 
Longfellow ! " 

Everybody laughed, and Maude's father pre- 
tended to faint. 

" Maude, if you do that again, you sha'n't read it," 
said her mother, looking proudly at Mrs. Ball. " I 
thought you said you had reformed." 

" Well, I have," said the girl, " but a little relapse 
like that once in a while doesn't count. Hear ye ; 
hear ye; hear ye. Now if you speak again, 
mamma, I'll clear the court. I shall now read the 
evidence deposition, or whatever you call it, 
(isn't that, it papa ?) of the absent witness ; " and 
the girl, struggling hard to be her natural self and 
to make merry for the four older people who 
loved her, struck what she assumed to be a heavy 
legal tone and attitude, and began reading the 
letter. 

She had not read far when she dropped her 
serio-comic manner and read on quite soberly, 



1 



132 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

stopping from time to time to be sure of a word. 
Once Mrs. Ball essayed to expalin and soften a 
passage, but her husband checked her. 

" Wait, mother, let Harvey present his whole 
case first. Don't try to prejudice Maude's jury. 
It is a good idea of hers to put it that way." 

" We may hang, or we may disagree " began 
Mr. Stone. 

"Or convict?" asked Harvey's mother, a little 
anxiously. 

" No danger of that, I guess," laughed Mr. 
Stone. 

" If this jury does not stop disturbing the court, 
I'll I'll elect a new foreman," said Maude, reach- 
ing over and poking her father with her fan. 

" Oh, am I the foreman ? " asked he, straighten- 
ing up and taking his long legs in. " Well, your 
honor, or whoever you are, who appoints foremen 
to suit yourself, now that your instructions are 
more fully understood, proceed. We're dumb. 
Let me see, you had got to ' of the past ' go 
on." 

When she had finished and begun folding the let- 
ter, Mr. Stone got up and deliberately took her in his 
arms and kissed her. Then he went abruptly out 
of the room and closed the door behind him. 

"Your father always takes everything about 
Harvey so to heart, Maude," said Mrs. Stone. 
" Go after him." The girl left the room at once. 



Js this your Son, my Lord? 138 

" I am sure the boy meant no harm," began his 
mother. " He did not think how it would sound. 
It sounds a little harsher than he must have in- 
tended ; but writing you know is not like talking. 
It is always unsatisfactory. If he were talking 
about it he could stop to explain points." 

Mr. Ball had stepped to the window and was 
looking out into the night. He was deeply per- 
plexed in spite of his talk of Harvey's honesty of 
purpose. He saw Maude and her father walking 
up and down the porch. He opened the window 
and stepped out, closing it behind him. The two 
figures were at the farther end now. Mr. Ball went 
quickly to them. 

" Are you disappointed in the boy, John ? " asked 
he, feelingly. 

" Disappointed ! disappointed ! " exclaimed Mr. 
Stone, more excited than his old friend had ever 
seen him. " Disappointed ! why, Edward, if that 
boy were mine if Edward sometimes I've 
thought that no man could have so great a curse in 
this world in these days as a son, but 

Old Mr. Ball began to protest, and Maude let her 
father's hand drop. " But, Edward," he continued, 
struggling to control his voice, " your son is enough 
to redeem a regiment. I'm glad I've lived to 
know him. He's pure gold through and through," 
and Mr. Stone took his old friend's hand in his 
ard each of them put an arm about Maude, 



134 Js this your /Son, my Lord? 

" and, Edward, he is the only young fellow I know 
who is worth more than the powder and shot it would 
take to kill him. By Jove, I wish he was my son. 
I'd trust him with I'd trust Harvey Ball with my 
little girl," he said, lowering his voice tenderly and 
drawing her up against his breast, " and be happy. 
And, Edward, I'd rather see her dead than married 
to any other young man I ever saw. There, that 
is my verdict on Harvey." 

" What is yours, Maudie ? " said Mr. Ball, tak- 
ing the girl's hand from her father's shoulder and 
using the pet name of her childhood. " What is 
your verdict, little girl ? " 

" About the letter ? Or about Har about Mr. 
Ball?" asked she, slyly imprinting a kiss on the lappel 
of her father's coat under cover of the darkness. 

" Mr. Ball ! " exclaimed the old man in blank 
amazement. " Mr. J^allf" but Maude had slipped 
herself free and in through an open window, thread- 
ing her way through the furniture in the dark and 
on up the stairs to her own room. She locked the 
door, and threw herself face down across her bed, 
and buried her cheeks in her hands. 

" O papa, papa," she remonstrated under her 
breath, " O papa, how could you say that out 
loud?" 

" No, not that I necessarily agree with all that 
he wrote," Mr. Stone was saying as he and Mr. 
Ball re-entered the library. "It isn't that ; but it is 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 135 

the tone of all that Harvey says, and does, and is. 
He doesn't pose. He's real. You want him to use 
his own head, don't you ? Well, suppose what he 
says does seem a little unusual to you and Aunt 
Martha, you see the motive in it, don't you ? Don't 
you see your good, true, open-minded son ? Now 
what is the object of training children ? To make 
'em all alike ? Not a bit of it : but to make them 
the best it is in them to be ; or make them see 
the importance of being earnest and honest, and 
then let each one come out with a different plan of 
salvation or system of government if he's a mind to. 
That's what I say. That's been our plan with 
Maude." Mrs. Ball murmured something about 
Maude being a girl. " Yes, that's so," assented Mr. 
Stone. " It is some different. Girls don't have quite 
so many temptations, of course, I mean girls who 
have good homes, and there are more safeguards 
kept about them. Everything holds them back 
from going wrong, and pretty nearly everything 
pushes boys to the devil, as if it had all been 
planned beforehand. Why, the very fact that a girl 
knows that any really wrong step made by her is her 
ruin in the eyes of society, is a tremendous safeguard, 
however unjust it may be ; and the very fact that a 
boy knows that this is not true in his case, is a con- 
stant temptation to him to do the prodigal son act, 
just for the fun of it, even if he has no real inclina- 
tion that way. That's why I've always said I am 



136 Ts this your Son, my Lord? 

glad I have no boys. I'd hate to have a blackguard 
or a booby for a son, and the way things are, it's a 
mighty slim chance that he wouldn't be one or the 
other. You're in luck, Edward. You've got a boy 
to be proud of, and by Jove, I'm glad to see that he 
has backbone enough to base his opinions and his 
splendid personal character on a firmer foundation 
than the shifting sands of dogmatic belief and theo- 
logical speculation." 

" Why, John ! " exclaimed Mrs. Ball, but he 
went on. 

" Look at that college mate of his ; the one that 
was here Fred Harmon. He was trained to be- 
lieve in traditional religion, as expounded by his 
mother and her rector. Well, he was made to 
base his actions on that belief. Good or bad was 
weighed by their theological scales, and cut down 
or trimmed off to fit their pattern. The scales, of 
course, were hung on the Bible. Well, that boy 
had not gone far in his college course, till he found 
his science and his Scripture conflicting in places. 
Six periods of time might go down as what was origi- 
nally meant by six days, if it wasn't for the context. 
Morning and evening of the first day - and all 
that sort of thing rather gave the professor away. 
The boys who were bright, badgered him until he 
showed pretty plainly that he was working for a 
salary. Well, they inquired into the sun standing 
still, and the Red Sea's antics, and the boys, who 



fs this your /Son, my Lord? 137 

weren't fools, made up their minds that a salary 
was sometimes compensation, not only for instruc- 
tion in certain topics, but for the mental integrity 
of the instructor as well. 

" That was a lesson a good deal easier learned 
than unlearned. 

" It wasn't long until these promising young scep- 
tics got to badgering their mothers. Then they 
were turned over to the rector. If he happened 
to be a 'reconciler' he manipulated, evaded, and 
patched up, and jumped over, and construed, until 
a good many of the boys were completely mystified. 
Well, when anybody is completely mystified by a 
man, they think he is a small god. ' Great mind ! ' 
they say; 'wonderful insight!' They know that 
they tried their level best, and could not follow his 
arguments to the conclusions he reached. They 
think that it is because they missed a link, and that 
he had it all there, only they were not clever 
enough to see it. Now, Fred Harmon wasn't built 
that way. He saw very distinctly that the link 
was gone. He followed it up, and chased it around, 
until he settled in his mind that what arc called the 
advanced ministers didn't believe, and didn't have 
to believe the creeds they had vowed to teach. 

"The underpinning got knocked out from under 
his morals right there. 

" He knew that those men lead the Protestant 
church to-day. He knew that the people followed 



138 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

them like sheep. He knew that they had sworn 
to teach a creed that they did not believe in any 
sense that carried par value to words. His morals 
were based on those creeds. "Well, the result was, 
the moment his belief in dogmatic religion was 
shaken, he had no foothold. Natural morality 
had no meaning to him. Goodness had none, apart 
from its creed-bound, society-defined limits. The 
outcome is, that he absolutely doesn't know the 
moral difference to-day between a lie and the truth. 
He doesn't have the slightest prejudice, as he calls 
it, in favor of one line of action above another, only 
on a strictly commercial basis. * Will it pay, 
socially speaking?' that is his test of conduct, of 
opinion, of morals. And he is one of thousands. 
I tell you, Edward, it won't do, it isn't safe, to base 
morality and goodness on such shifting sands. 
Harvey is right. It belongs to the past, and its 
present pretence of readjustment to the needs of 
this generation is simply turning out a lot of Fred 
Harmons and worse if that is possible." 

Maude had .pushed aside the portieres, and 
entered the room a few moments before. She 
stood behind her father. Her lips were white and 
a little drawn. She slipped out again and sat 
down on the porch. No one had noticed her. 
Late that night she wrote to Fred. 

" I promised you in the note I left for you, the 
morning after the Military Ball in St. Louis, that 



Js this your /Son, my Lord? 139 

if I had anything definite to say to you at any 
time in the future after I had thought over 
what my father said I should write again. I have 
something to say now. My father was right. Our 
lives and training have been so unlike, our ideals 
based upon such totally different, and, as he says, 
antagonistic thoughts and needs that our, that is, 
if we are still engaged, I write now to say, that it 
is best to end our mistake at once. 

" You were different from any one I had ever 
known. I admired you, your polish and self-poise 
and all I saw of you and comprehended was 
very pleasing. I thought that I loved you. Per- 
haps I did but perhaps it was rather what you 
represented to me, or what I thought you, or that I 
so loved to be loved myself and was a little proud 
that you should care for me. I am not able to say 
now what it was. I I do not understand it at all ; 
but I do know now that I should be afraid to trust 
myself to marry you and I could not marry 
without perfect trust. I had that. I have it no 
more." 

Maude wrote a little unsteadily, and she closed 
her eyes and laid her head back wearily on the 
chair, still holding the pen over the paper. She 
was very pale. Presently she began again. 

"I know that you will believe me when I say 
that I hope you will be much happier in the love 
of some one else, and that she will be happy in 



140 Js this your Son, my Lord? 

your love. I shall send this to the Chicago 
address that you gave me four months ago. Please 
let me know that you get it. Good-by. I am so 
sorry, oh, so very sorry, that all of it that any 
of it has happened. Good-by again. Maude." 

She folded the note and addressed it : then she 
threw herself on the bed. After a long time the 
door opened softly and her father's face peered 
in. The gas was burning brightly, and he saw his 
daughter lying face down with a handkerchief in the 
hand which was thrown above her head. He 
went in quietly, and closed the door behind him. 
Then he seated himself in the chair which she had 
left by the table and waited. A little sob came 
from the bed. He saw the note, but he did not 
touch it. After what seemed to him a very long 
time, he stepped to the bed, and lifting the girl in 
his arms, as he had done when she was a little 
child, carried her to the chair and sat down, and 
clasping her to his breast, kissed her hair, her 
eyes, and lips, with tears on his own cheeks. 
Neither of them spoke. At last Maude said : " Did 
you read it V " He shook his head. 

"Reach;" she said, holding fast to his neck so 
that he might free his arm. He took the note, and 
holding it behind her shoulder read it through. 
Then he sealed it, and put it in his breast pocket. 
" I will mail it," he said softly, as one speaks at a 
grave. Then with a great wave of feeling, ci 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 141 

my daughter, my precious daughter, your father's 
heart is glad. I could give you to a good man and 
bjear it ; but darling, Maudie, my daughter " He 
pressed her closer to him, and tears dropped on 
her shining hair. 

Two hours later they were sitting there. . . . She 
was asleep, and the gaslight fell on his rugged face 
made radiant by its love and joy. John Stone felt 
as one might who snatches from the jaws of death 
his only treasure. 



142 fa this your Son, my Lordf 



CHAPTEE X. 

"Heaven forbid I should fetter my impartiality by entertaining as 
opinion " 

" To have a mind well oiled with that sort of argument which prevents 
any claim from grasping it. seems eminently convenient sometimes; only 
the oil becomes objectionable when we find it anointing other minds on 
which we want to establish a hold " 

"Men and women make sad mistakes about their own symptoms, taking 
their vague, uneasy longings, sometimes for genius, sometimes for religion, 
and oftener slill for a mighty love." George Eliot. 

Fred Harmon read Maude's note with Conflicting 
emotions. 

" I should hope that she considered our engage- 
ment if it might ever have been dignified by 
that name broken long ago. I certainly did. 
But I suppose it is very hard for a girl like that to 
give up a " he did not say brilliant match, but 
that is what he thought. He did not take the 
trouble to let her know that the note had reached, 
him. Why should he? Of course it would reach 
him. She must have known that, and, after all, 
his mother was right ; it was a good deal better to 
put as little as possible in writing, especially with 
people like that." He had fallen into his mother's 
mode of thought again. 

Then he began to have a sense of loss and of 
moral collapse. He felt very hardly used indeed, 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 143 

and strolled along the Boulevard andtapk his hat 
off in so impressive a manner and withsuch aban- 
don of self abnegation that the ladies, as they drove 
by, wondered if there had been a death in his 
family or whether perchance he had taken his or- 
dination vows in secret. 

Barlow noticed his abstraction and gloom and 
chaffed him a little, but Fred let him see, at once, 
that it was far too serious a matter to trifle with, 
and Barlow changed the subject. 

" Excuse me, Harmon ; " he said. " I did not 
dream there was any real trouble. I thought you 
were only mooning a little." 

Fred sighed heavily ; presently he said, 

" Yes, I am in serious trouble, Barlow. I have 
had a terrible grief ; but it is best not to talk of 
it. Don't say anything more about it to me, or to 
anyone ; it is always better to bear one's burdens 
silently, I think." 

Barlow promised and offered sympathy, which 
Fred accepted gracefully, leaving the impression 
that it was wholly inadequate, and that his heroic 
sufferings had probably never been equalled. That 
night he wrote to his mother. 

" Of course I realized, long ago when I broke 
the engagement how incompetent such a girl 
would be to fill the position my wife will occupy 
especially if I take orders ; and the more I think of 
it the more I am inclined to do so. . Your 



144 Js this your Son, my Lord? 

Indian Princess must be very amusing ; but really, 
mother, I do not see the need of so much fuss about 
such people. A good enough fad, of course, and I 
don't mean to discourage it; but such cattle! 
What difference can it make what becomes of their 
girls ? I don't at all doubt that what she says is 
true. From the little I saw last year in Alaska, 
and in the camps a good deal nearer home, for the 
matter of that, I should think her account not at 
all overdrawn. The white men and soldiers certainly 
do make them drunk, and carry the girls off. Ugh ! 
Such taste and I suppose they keep them as long 
as they want to ; or as long as they can for their 
own safety ; and what else can they do then but 
send the disgusting creatures back to the tribe? 
They have to. How did you ever happen to get 
interested in such a. ridiculous fad, anyhow? Is 

Mrs. W in it? I suppose so. Oh, well, of 

course it can't do you any harm. . . . 

" What a delightful girl your ' dear Pauline ' is ? 
Don't be surprised, but this is a little premature 
just now. Whist ! " 

Mrs. Harmon read the letter and smiled. Fred 
in Holy Orders, and married to Paulino ! Ah, life 
is very sweet, and compensations come to those 
who plan and wait ! 

As Mr. Fred Harmon, late of Harvard, stood before 
his mirror the next evening in the Grand Pacific Hotel 
and gave the last touches to his white cambric tie, 



Js this your /Son, my Lord? 145 

he smiled approvingly at the reflection, and decided 
that even the splendid vigor of Barlow did not 
appear to conspicuous advantage when contrasted 
with the perfection of detail presented here. But 
it was a little early to make a call. People in 
the West took dinner at such heathenish hours, and 
ate so fast, that it would be a long time before he 
could present himself at the home of Miss Pauline 
Tyler's uncle on Michigan Avenue. The question 
now was how to put in the intervening hours. 
Perhaps if he started out aimlessly* he might have 
the good fortune to run into a political meeting or 
a Salvation Army band. Almost anything afforded 
Mr. Fred Harmon entertainment. He was wont 
to pride himself on this fact. It was the chief 
distinction between the college-bred man and 
another, he said. College training enabled you 
to be interested in all things, from a bug to a 
bombardment; from the cry of the night-hawk 
to that of a woman in distress, and it appeared 
to be about the same sort of interest in each case. 
It was the alert attention of the anatomist to his 
subject. 

Fortune favored the young man. He had not 
strolled three blocks from the hotel until he saw an 
arrest made. There had been a street fight. He 
followed the officers to the station, and watched all 
the proceedings with the attention of a trained 
observer. 



146 2s this your /Son, my Lord? 

One of tbe young men, a German, appeared to 
be the victim 01 a brutal assault. He bad received 
a gbastly wound on tbe head and it was feared that 
his skull was fractured. Fred's cambric tie, which 
showed above his bght top-coat, bad led the officers 
to think him a clergyman, and they had admitted 
him without a question to the examination. When 
the final collapse came and the young German sank 
into a comatose state, one of the officers turned to 
Fred and said : 

" It's your turn now ; we done our part ; doc- 
tor's done hisen ; now you kin have your innin's if 
you're a mineto." 

Fred smiled, but kept his eyes on th^ figure 
before him. Pie did not fully understand the police- 
man's mistake ; but he saw at Once that he was 
supposed to have some right there and, p j.tting his 
faith in silence, he continued to smile vaguely and 
watch the wounded man. Presently he turned 
to the physician and said : 

"Extremely interesting, isn't it? First case I 
ever saw. Final breakup was like a climax in a 
play. How long will he continue to breathe 
now?" 

The physician looked at his questioner for a 
moment before he replied. "Possibly for several 
hours; but probably not so long. The skull is un- 
doubtedly fractured and If you have any interest 
in him, you best lose no time. Get his friends here. 



Ts this your Son, my Lord? 147 

He will never be moved alive. Poor fellow, he 
appears to be a victim of his inability to make his 
broken English understood. It is really an unusu- 
ally sad case, I infer from what the officer says." 

" Very sad, very sad indeed," murmured Fred 
abstractedly, and went his way, congratulating 
himself on having had the good fortune to witness 
the effects of a pistol-shot wound in the head, 
fracture of the skull, and the various physical phe- 
nomena which follow. 

" Pore feller," said the policeman ; " I wish I had 
got there a little sooner. I might'a helped him." 

" Poor fellow," thought the surgeon, " all we 
can do now is to quiet his pain. Poor fellow, he 
has a good face." 

" Exceedingly interesting case," said Fred Harmon 
to himself, as he strolled up the street. "Very 
pleasing and well-ordered sequence indeed. The 
way his legs tottered, the way he bore the pain 
of examination at first, the giving way of his legs, 
and then of his stomach, and then his nerves when 
he began to cry very interesting quite a bit 
of experimental knowledge added to my store. 
Well, I am glad I started out aimlessly and 
above all I'm glad that I am able to engage my 
mind with all such little things. Intellectual train- 
ing is a vast gain. Now those men the officers, 
for instance took no intelligent interest whatever 
in the development of the case as a means of edu- 



148 Js this your Son, my Lord? 

cation ; " and so Mr. Fred Harmon philosophized 
and congratulated himself, until he came suddenly 
to the entrance of a large hall into which numbers 
of men were pouring. 

" No women ; " thought he. " 'M-m-m " then 
stepping up to a gentleman he inquired what was 
going on inside. 

" Young men's prayer and experience meeting,' 
he said, " won't you come in ? All are welcome." 
Fred thanked him and went in. He took a seat 
near the door, intending to go out again in ten 
minutes ; but the hymns and prayers entertained 
him, and when several got up and spoke one after 
another, he found himself held and attracted by the 
variety. He wondered each time if the " experi- 
ence " would vary much from that of the man who 
had gone before. Several had begun by saying 
that they felt themselves the chief of sinners, and 
had then gone on to develop the idea that since a 
given date they had cared for nothing, loved noth- 
ing, wanted nothing, but God. Fred noticed that 
one of the men on the platform who had said some- 
thing of this kind was the commercial traveller, 
his erst- while companion at poker, the night of the 
Military Ball in St. Louis. The thought sent a flood 
of memories through his brain. He felt chastened 
and depressed. Life had dealt hardly with him of 
late. He was both lonely and aimless. It was 
suddenly borne in upon him that his name had 



Ts (Ms your Son, my Lord? 149 

been spoken. He looked up. The commercial 
traveller was standing and had evidently spoken 
to him. There was a slight movement and a ripple 
of curiosity in the house " and if the gentleman, 
our distinguished guest from Boston, who, with his 
characteristic modesty, is near the door, will step 
this way, we will be happy to give him a seat on 
the platform. Come this way, Mr. Harmon." 

Fred shook his head ; but his commercial friend 
urged him. Fred thought this in very bad taste. 
At last he arose, looked about him and said, " How- 
ever much I should like to accept your cordial invi- 
tation to occupy a seat upon the platform, I am 
compelled to decline. Unfortunately I have 
another engagement. I came in for only a few 
moments. I shall have to go soon." 

" Before you go, we shall be glad to have you 
stand where you are and give your religious expe- 
rience for the help and comfort and encouragement 
of others who may be strangers and whose names 
I may not know, all of whom are welcome here as 
they will be welcome over there ; " and the chair- 
man waved his hand toward the upper part of the 
front of the house, in which he appeared to locate 
a celestial abode of the future. Fred thought all 
this very droll indeed. He ran hastily over what 
he could best recall of his " experience " and noth- 
ing that occurred to him at the moment appeared 
to be especially suited to the occasion, or likely to 



150 Ts this your Son, my Lord? 

help the strangers about him to a cheerful view of 
the Christian life. He shook his head. He had 
not had time to suspect that his friend on the plat- 
form was having his little fun out of the situation. 
This thought began to assert itself just as he heard 
that gentleman's voice say solemnly, " our mis- 
fortune ; but I am sure that his eloquent voice will 
not decline to lead us at the throne of grace. Let 
us pray. Mr. Harmon, please lead us in prayer." 

The whole audience arose. It was not the first 
time that Fred Harmon had prayed in public. His 
choice of language was rich and forceful. Indeed 
he had been told that he was " gifted in prayer. " 
He felt no sense of inappropriateness ; but the tinge 
of humor that had begun to creep in caused him to 
open his eyes as he went on, and as he did so he saw 
that the gentleman who had urged him to offer the 
prayer was shaking with some suppressed emotion, 
and that his hand, which was over his eyes, had a 
wide space open between two of the fingers where 
an eye, which was not closed, appeared and distinctly 
twinkled. Fred's voice shook a little. " Amen," 
he said reverently. " Amen ! " went up from the 
audience. " Amen," said Fred's friend from the 
platform ; " Amen, praise the Lord ! Thank you, 
brother Harmon. Come to our meetings again." 

Fred bowed, and went out. In the lobby he 
stopped to button his coat, and light a cigar. A 
hand fell on his arm. 



Ts this your Son, my Lord? 151 

'< I heard that you were going to take Holy 
Carders, and I thought you might as well get your 
hand in on our crowd;" said his commercial friend, 
who had hastened out after him. " They will take 
'most anything. They know that some of us are 
more or less irregular don't you know, but they 
don't mind it. Stopping at the G. P.? Yes? 
Well, so am I. Room 98. Come in any time, up 
to three o'clock, and have a quiet little game. Ben 
will be there, and oh, well, if you rather, bring 
your own deck, of course ; but there, they need 
me. That's my hymn, and then I have to give 
them a little talk on the beauty of holiness. See 
you later." He waved his hand, and disappeared. 
He had no sooner re-entered the hall, than his 
strong, inspiring voice swelled into the melody of 
" Nearer My God to Thee " at the third line, and 
so enthused the whole body, that they arose with 
one accord, and gave forth a fresh volume of 
ecstatic and enthusiastic vocalization. 

Some of them believed that their emotions were 
caused by religion ; some of them thought very 
little about it, and simply went with the swim ; 
some of them knew that they were utilizing, for 
business purposes, purely physical sensations ; but 
one and all went away feeling that the evening had 
been well spent, and that at least no harm could 
come to any man so long as he was in no worse a 
place than that. If there was one man in the room 



152 Is this your /Son, my Lord? 

who felt that he had added to the sum of human 
misery, or degradation, or sorrow, it certainly was 
not Mr. Fred Harmon, nor was it his friend, the 
commercial traveller. 

Later that night, they laughed over it a little, it 
is true, but neither of them doubted for a moment 
the wisdom of his own course, nor the wickedness 
of those who openly questioned a morality built 
upon conventional observances, and an eternal 
reward contingent on faith. 

If Mr. Fred Harmon was expert at poker, he was 
not invariably a winner, and although he always 
said that he played a very small game, as became a 
gentleman who indulged in the sport merely for 
pastime, still it sometimes came about, if jackpots 
were shy, or flushes unduly abbreviated, that his 
exchequer, at no time plethoric, became reduced to 
the verge of collapse. At such trying times he re- 
ported to his mother, as a dutiful son should, that 
he had met with a misfortune. Once or twice 
this had taken the shape of an ordinary pickpocket, 
and the young man so blamed himself for his care- 
lessness in carrying money where it could be so 
easily abstracted from his pockets, and for his stu- 
pidity for falling asleep on a street car in broad 
daylight, that his devoted parent consoled and ex- 
cused him, with ingenious thought of his active 
brain, which she had no doubt needed the sleep, 
and sent him all the money she could get from 



Ts this your Son, my Lord? 153 

the indulgent but far from opulent head of the 
house. But just now it occurred to him that the 
"street-car, overworked-brain, pickpocket racket," 
as he smilingly called it in his own mind, could 
hardly be presented so soon again. The impulsive 
relieving of a sad case of destitution was equally 
threadbare. He thought of a public subscription 
for Foreign Missions, but decided against it. Such 
lists were published, a vulgar and inconvenient 
custom, but still so universal that he gave the plan 
only a moment's consideration. 

The leather trade presented attractions again ; 
but after mature deliberation and a careful weigh- 
ing of points for and against a step which might 
smirch his whole future, even though temporarily 
resorted to, he decided to accept the long-since for- 
gotten, and now providentially recalled, invitation 
of Preston Mansfield to drop in on him and take a 
hunt or a rest in the quiet and seclusion of that 
young gentleman's not far distant home. There 
could be very few calls for money in such a place 
as that. Hotel bills would cease and well, Pres- 
ton Mansfield was not a bad fellow to know in the 
West. So Mr. Fred Harmon made up his mind to 
hibernate, as he phrased it to himself, until the next 
regular time came around when he might expect 
money from home. He could then bloom once more 
afresh in the world he loved to grace, the world 
which rewarded his exceptional ability so poorly 



1 54 Is thi& your Son.; my Lord? 

that he was barely enabled to live as became a 
gentleman on the higher planes of thought and 
action, giving scant heed to the grosser necessities 
of life, such as money making, where he could 
devote his rare talents to those purely intellectual 
processes, commonly called education, in which his 
life had thus far been spent. 

This training had resulted, as we have seen, in the 
young man's proud ability to interest himself in any 
thing, from a globule to a geological period, or a 
gun-shot wound, without those disturbing elements 
of emotion, love or sympathy or fear or regret, 
which militate so grievously against the unpre- 
judiced planes of thought whereon civilized and 
cultured collegians were at that time struggling 
desperately to maintain themselves. It is true that 
comparatively few of them succeeded. Their home 
training in most cases was against it, and the rare 
combination of home, church, and collegiate dis- 
cipline which had focused in his case, and devel- 
oped the nature of Mr. Fred Harmon into that 
much envied being, a successful conventional 
leader, free from all sentiment and full of all 
sentimentality, had been almost perfect for the 
purpose from his earliest infancy. He knew before 
he was ten years old, that it was vulgar to differ 
from social and religious leaders in one's opinions 
on any subject whatever, and that it was quite 
unpardonable to give utterance to such differences. 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 155 

He knew, too, that a gentleman might be wretch- 
edly poor, might accept the bounty of those who 
labored, but if he engaged in any kind of busi- 
ness his claims to position were at once gone. He 
had never forgotten the impressive lesson on this 
point that he had received very early in life. 
His uncle had come to talk a matter over with his 
sister, Fred's mother. It was soon after the civil 
war, and it appeared from the account that this 
uncle had lost his all, and was left without means 
of support. He had been offered a very fair and 
tempting salary if he would take charge of certain 
business matters for an elderly gentleman of his 
acquaintance. The position was that of a sort of 
upper clerk, or manager. 

" You must not think of it," said his sister in- 
dignantly. " It is an insult for him to suggest such 
a thing to you. You manage his affairs, indeed! 
Be a head clerk in a mercantile house ! Never ! 
Go to the poorhouse like a gentleman, if you must, 
Cuthbert ; but never forget, brother, that you are 
a gentleman." 

Fred had thought a great many times, in his brief 
career, of going to the poorhouse like a gentleman, 
and in his childhood had vaguely wondered who 
supported the superior beings whose pride reduced 
them to such straits as this. He learned later that 
it was done chiefly by the cruder class, whose pride 
and breeding and culture did not stand between 



156 Is this your Son, my Lordf 

them and money-producing occupations of various 
degrees of vulgarity. So, although Fred did not, 
by any means, suppose that going to visit Preston 
Mansfield would be quite like entering an elee- 
mosynary institution, still he looked upon it some- 
what as the genteel resort of a man of culture in 
reduced circumstances, to tide over, not at his own 
expense, for he did not permit himself to think of 
it in the affirmative formula a period of financial 
depression, of greater or less duration. That it was 
a very great compliment to Preston Mansfield, he 
realized ; but he had his satirical doubts if that 
young gentleman would comprehend it as fully as 
he should. That Preston would be pleased to see 
him, that he would be hospitable and cordial, he did 
not doubt ; but would Preston have the insight to 
appreciate the honor of it ? That was the question ; 
and he smilingly decided that it was altogether 
unlikely that so emotional and coarse-grained a 
fellow would be endowed with sufficiently fine in- 
stincts to do so. He decided to make a study of the 
case, and had already thought out a humorous letter 
he should write to his mother, giving the curious 
details of life in such a family, and the relish with 
which he discovered his own ability to keep himself 
so well in hand that not one of them should discover 
that he felt himself to be doing an exceedingly 
gracious thing in giving them the benefit of a social 
example as simply as if he were on their own plane. 



Is this your /Son, my Lord? 157 

He prided himself on the simplicity and charm of 
his manner towards his inferiors. He thought it very 
likely that servants were human, from a strictly 
anatomical outlook, and he felt it only right to rec- 
ognize that fact, from time to time. Never by taking 
an interest in their affairs, of course ; but well, 
he had spoken distinctly to Thomas who served him 
at the hotel, at least twice, in the weeks that he was 
there, and he had stepped aside for the chamber- 
maid one morning, in such a way that she must 
have known that he saw her and therefore knew 
that she existed. He thought such little things 
kept servants devoted to their superiors, and it was 
not a great sacrifice for a gentleman to make, if he 
once made up his mind to it ; but the intolerable 
impudence of the serving class, he felt, made even 
such slight concessions somewhat dangerous, unless 
one were really heroic in his devotion to prin- 
ciple. 

He had heard the Reverend Highchurch dis- 
course upon the subject, " How shall we treat our 
servants ? " And he knew that the entire congre- 
gation had felt that the Christian beauty of his ad- 
vice was the result of an exaltation almost divine. 
He had distinctly advised moderation in censure, 
and said that even a word of praise judiciously 
offered might not always be a bad plan where ser- 
vants were faithful and devoted, and had grown 
gray in one's service. But such as these were, of 



158 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

course, rare enough to make this radical advice 
innocuous, even if followed. 

It is due to Mr. Fred Harmon to say that he did 
not give the thought that Preston Mansfield had 
several pretty sisters any consideration whatever. 
He knew that he could make himself agreeable to 
almost any girl or woman, if he saw fit ; and if he 
did not, well, it was easy enough to drop a vague 
hint of a wounded heart in such a way that gentle 
sympathy and thoughtful kindness would be drawn 
out, and no complications result ; for his new friends 
would not know who the lady was, and no one could 
doubt the ease of a role like that if he once tried it. 
Fred smiled to think how often it had worked in 
his own brief career. Before he was fairly out of 
knickerbockers, his mother had added jelly to his 
toast, and sent it to his darkened room, with a 
tender message for the stricken heart of her son. 
That time it was one of his teachers. She was a 
very pretty girl indeed, and not more than ten 
years his senior. She had married well, too, a man 
much above her, Fred's mother thought, the 
young rector in a town near by. Fred was deso- 
late, and enjoyed the fruits of his woe in the 
shape of jelly and long naps in the morning, and 
gentle words and tones, until the sharp edge of his 
heartbreak wore off. So with ageing melancholy 
he cast his eyes alternately upon Bertie Fairchild 
and the Church. He was confirmed shortly there- 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 159 

after. Then he felt better for a time. Fred always 
thought of holy orders at such crises as these, and 
had even gone the length of pondering over the 
growing ranks of monks then attracting attention in 
ritualistic Protestant circles because of the recent 
conversion to their order of a certain conspicuous 
young churchman who had taken the vows of chas- 
tity and poverty. Fred thought of this again when 
his mother first objected to his betrothal to Maude 
Stone, and he had read up on the requirements of 
such a position in the English Church in America. 
He knew it would give him great prestige to be a 
convert, and renounce the world so conspicuously ; 
but it was uncouth to be in haste about anything, 
and there was ample time to think it over. 

The inclination had almost faded out, until his 
last misfortune with the jackpot (whoever heard 
<jf two such hands being beaten, one right after the 
other?), and then it swept over him anew. It 
was always a splendid possibility for the future. 
But he decided against haste, as before. He would 
visit Preston Mansfield, and give himself time to 
think in dignified seclusion from the world. Then, 
too, Pauline Tyler had left Chicago three days 
before. 

She confided to him, before she left, that there 
was absolutely no truth in the report that she 
was to marry Chicago's mayor-elect ; and as to 
banker Hartley well she had met him only 



160 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

three times, and the absurdity of such a thing was 
quite manifest. Fred agreed with her perfectly, 
and wrote for her a somewhat touching denial of 
these rumors to the society columns of the papers, 
whereupon the reporters called upon Miss Pauline, 
who peremptorily refused to see them; sending 
down word that she was prostrated by the publicity 
given to her affairs. 

The postman's indignation was aroused the next 
day and the next and the next, by the armful of 
newspapers he was called upon to convey from the 
house of Miss Tyler's uncle to the post-office. He 
noticed that they were addressed in a feminine 
hand and were sent to othernewspapers, as well as 
to private persons all over the country, and not a 
few were sent abroad. He concluded that they 
contained marked notices of a wedding or a death, 
but he did not see why one of the servants might* 
not have made a large package of the whole lot 
and gone with them himself to the post-office. 

But Pauline was gone now, and those terrible 
Chicago reporters would trouble her no more. 
But stay would it not be their fiendish work, 
after all, which would follow her ? And would not 
all those other papers copy from them and bandy 
her name about as if she were some vulgar woman 
who had done something written a play, or 
acted one, or some such bold thing as that ? And 
poor Pauline drew her veil down, laid her weary 



Is this your /Son, my Lord? 161 

head back on the car seat and sighed heavily. It 
was the penalty of distinction. Pauline thought 
how hard it must be for great men to bear it. And, 
women, but the bold creatures who got their 
names in the papers outside of the society columns 
no doubt liked it. Of course, to be in the 
society column was quite different. One's person- 
ality was subordinated there to one's clothes ; but 
to have one's name mentioned in print as having 
been so pronounced as to do anything, or say or 
think anything whatsoever, apart from costumes and 
church charity, was outside the pale of serious 
consideration by womanly women at least. Pauline 
had said all this and more a great many times. 
Pauline was orthodox in all things. 



162 Is this your Son, my Lordf 



CHAPTER XI. 

" Durable morality had been associated with a transitory faith. The 
faith fell Into Intellectual discredit, and . . . morality shared its 
decline for a season. This must always be the natural consequence of 
building sound ethics on the 'shifting sands and rotting foundations of 
theology." John Morley. 

"Men talk of 'mere morality,' which Is much as if one should say, 
'Poor God, with nobody to help him.' " Emerson. 

" Think not that lam come to send peace on earth : I came not to send 
peace, but a sword. For I am come to set a man at variance against his 
father, and the daughter against her mother." Jesus Christ. 

When Harvey Ball came home he was greatly 
surprised to find his mother still somewhat disturbed 
by the letter he had written about Albert's choice 
of a profession. She had never been a very strict 
church-member, but had usually gone to hear a 
sermon, each week, all her life, and her husband 
frequently went with her. There had been but 
little talk about it in the family, and it was simply 
taken for granted that the liberal teachings of the 
broad-minded, cheerful, kind man who filled their 
pulpit, were axiomatically correct, and that Harvey 
and Albert were mentally in accord with it all. 

Harvey had always been such an upright fellow. 
From his very infancy his sense of justice had 
been strong, and any inclination to be untruthful that 
he may originally have had, or imbibed from others, 
had nothing to feed upon at home, for he feared no 
one. If he made a " bad break," as he called it, he 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 163 



usually told his father or mother quite frankly, and 
they helped him out of it. Not by trying to 
conceal or distort the fact that it was a mistake, or 
even a wrong; but by explaining the other side 
to him, meanwhile keeping a fast hold of the boy's 
love of their approbation. He had lied one day, 
when only a very little fellow, about the quantity 
of candy he had. It seemed to him that it would 
be easier to do that than to give up any more of 
the sweet stuff ; so he had hid it, and said there 
was no more, when his mother asked him. His 
father had seen him slyly abstracting a piece from 
the box which he had concealed behind a trunk. 

" Bring it all out, Harvey," he had said, with not 
the slightest hint of disapproval in his voice ; " you 
can get at it better out here, and you won't feel 
so uncomfortable. Telling what is not true to your 
mother, or me, makes you feel rather uneasy, I 
notice. It is always that way. When I have 
tried it I always feel worse afterward ; and then it 
does not pay to let other people get the idea that 
you do not tell, and do not care for, the truth. 
Would it make you uncomfortable or unhappy if 
you thought that what I say to you is not true ? " 

" No sir," said Harvey promptly, with a mouth- 
ful of candy. His imagination was too weak just 
then to grasp the idea. 

That afternoon Mr. Ball promised his son a 
drive in the country. Harvey was filled with 



164 Is this your /Son, my Lord? 



delight. Shortly afterward, as the little fellow 
stood on tip-toe watching for his father, he saw 
him drive past and disappear. The boy ran out to 
the gate, but his father did not come back. He 
wept, and raged, and sulked within himself. That 
night his father said, " Oh, did you expect me to 
take you ? " 

" You know you promised me ; " sobbed Harvey, 
" and there was room, and you said you would take 
me." . 

" So I did, so I did," said his father ; " and you 
believed me, didn't you? Well, Harvey, I told 
you a lie just to show you that it would hurt 
somebody. Now it hurt you, didn't it, son ? 
and it hurt me too. Then it did another thing : 
the next time I tell you I will do anything, you 
will not know whether to believe me or not, will 
you?" 

v "No sir," said Harvey, with wide eyes and a 
sense of loss. 

" You would a great deal rather feel sure, would 
you not?" 

" Yes, I would, papa." 

" Well, that's the way it is," said Mr. Ball, taking 
the boy up in his arms. " It is just that way about 
everything. Unless people know that a man tells 
the truth, as a rule, nobody will know whether to 
believe anything at all that he says.' Very 
soon they will not believe him, even when he 



Is this your /Son, my Lord? 165 

is honest. Nobody will deal with him, and he will 
cause so much confusion and want of confidence, 
that he will harm a good many people beside him- 
self. So, don't you see, Harvey, people must tell 
the truth for the safety and happiness of them- 
selves as well as of others ? Don't you see that it 
is a great deal to one's own advantage to be truth- 
ful, and that it is necessary for children to learn 
the lesson pretty early? That is the reason why 
there are laws against lying. Did you know there 
is a law 

" Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy 
neighbor," piped up the boy, who had gone to 
Sunday-school from time to time. 

" Yes," said his father, " that was built on the 
very experience I tell you about. Men found out 
that it would not do to lie; it would interfere 
with everything ; and so, long after they found that 
out, some one stated it in that way. But, after all, 
that is only one side of it. That is the perjury 
side, the side the law takes hold of. But just 
suppose it was the rule to lie. You would take 
ten cents and go to a store to buy marbles. The 
man would tell you they were two cents each. 
How many would you get ? " 

" Five," said Harvey, promptly. 

"Well now, suppose you handed him your 
money, and when you got out of the door you 
found that he had given you only four ? " 



166 Is this your /Son, my Lordf 

" I would go back and make him give me the 
other," said the boy, savagely. 

" But suppose you could not ? He is the 
larger." 

" Then I would tell you ! " Harvey was trium- 
phant. 

" Well, but suppose I myself had lied to that 
man the day before had sold him a horse as 
good and sound, when he was blind in one eye ? 
Don't you see, Harvey, it would not work ? Don't 
you see that people could not get along ? Don't you 
see that everything would get so tied up and con- 
fused that business would stop, and nobody would 
believe a word that anybody else said ? Don't you 
think that would be pretty bad ? Business would 
be impossible ; homes would be impossible. Every- 
thing would go to pieces. It could not be done. 
Well, now, that fact became known by experience, 
and so, for self-protection, people had to tell the 
truth, don't you see ? " 

" I thought it was because God said " began 
the boy, with his catechism still in his mind. 

" Oh, to be sure, to be sure, they say God said it. 
That is, some people do and no doubt He did 
but don't you see how they got the idea first?" 
asked his father, quite inconsistently. " They 
found out how it was what was necessary and 
you know when men find that out they always 
think and say that it is God's way. Their necessi- 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 167 

ties are God's wishes, and so God's wishes are 
different in .different countries, and at different 
times." 

This was rather deep, and rather puzzling 
theology to the boy ; and very inconsistent religion 
in the father ; but neither of them knew the latter 
fact, and the lesson went home to the boy's mind 
strictly as a rational and utilitarian view of the 
command to be truthful. 

Mr. Ball himself had no idea that his explana- 
tion was a trifle unorthodox. He had based his 
life on reason, and then he had gone occasionally to 
an Orthodox church, because it was the custom, and 
he liked the preacher personally. 

He did not think it exactly right or safe, how- 
ever, to have Harvey base his ideas of right and 
wrong on the catechism, and so he took him out of 
Sunday-school. At the same time he had intended 
the boy to return later on, when his moral ideas 
should be founded on reason, so he had told him- 
self. But Harvey had never asked to go back. 
He had liked to stay at home or take a drive, far 
better, and as a consequence, his religion^ instruc- 
tion had never gone very far. Sometimes he had 
attended church with his mother; but he usually 
went to sleep, or got so interested in watching the 
people and Chinking about them that whatever of 
dogmatic theology the Rev. Carr had preached, had 
escaped Harvey. He liked Mr. Carr very much 



168 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

indeed. They always had a merry chat when tin 
met in the street. The clergyman seemed to tako 
a deep interest in marbles, and later on in base- 
ball, so they were the best of friends, and neither of 
them realized how wide apart their points of view 
had grown as the years went by. Even in Harvey's 
college days, in the vacations, when he was at home, 
he had always enjoyed meeting Mr. Carr. 

When Harvey first entered college, he found his 
father's lessons and character a firm foundation. 
All about him was different. Temptations had 
new forms, pleasures and vices new faces. Some 
of the boys lost their heads. The boundary line 
of moral actions wavered or got rubbed out. To 
those who lost their absolute faith, the belief in a 
certain phase of life as the only right or decent 
one; to those who found for the first time con- 
flicting dogmas held as equally good; to those 
who met new questions and scientific facts with 
undeveloped and illogical minds; to those who 
were suddenly awakened to the knowledge that 
their religion was not universal, or even approxi- 
mately so, to the fact that more millions were 
without it than with it, and that morality had no 
necessary connection with religion, to all thee, 
college life was a dangerous awakening. Some of 
them kept their feet fairly well ; but for the most 
part they became, either openly or in secret, ad- 
dicted to vices which they no longer measured as 



Is this your >S'0n, my Lord? 169 

such, because their standards of measurement had 
ceased to be useful. These boys had no other moral 
standards, and they found themselves adrift with- 
out square or compass. Some of them added to 
their other vices that of duplicity." They professed 
to accept and use their old creeds ; they concluded 
that this was universal ; that no one believed what 
he pretended to, on any subject whatever. Virtue 
and candor were for women and children to be 
talked about in public ; but the men, who believed 
in either, were ignorant fools or milk-sops. Edu- 
cated men knew better. It was all a gigantic, 
roaring farce, and they took their cues with spirit. 
A few kept their feet, but were discouraged and 
dazed. A small number underwent no revolution. 
A wider view they saw ; but it was part and parcel 
of the well-known field of natural experiences, 
the same measurements lengthened, the same 
calculations multiplied, the same rules developed, 
that was all. 

Fred Harmon had gone down with those who 
still outwardly conformed. In him duplicity and 
reticence, in all things, had held such sway that he 
did not himself know their boundary lines. 

Preston Mansfield flung everything to the winds 
with the first revelation made to him by his father, 
and was openly and boldly a man of the rapid 
world, who did not care to hide the fact except from 
those of his own household. Even at home he made 



170 is this your Son, my Lord? 

no pretence. He simply held his tongue and rested 
on that miraculous capacity which each man's 
women- folks have for accepting him at, or even above, 
his own valuation, while a certain discount system is 
applied to every other man of their acquaintance. 
Preston's mother had sometimes had vague doubts of 
her husband, in spite of his conspicuous position in 
her beloved church. Of Preston she had no doubts 
at all. To her he was still a lad, pure, simple, direct 
and clean-minded. His sisters estimated him even 
higher, nor had a quaver of doubt ever come to 
them of the absolute moral integrity of their 
father. All this hurt Preston Mansfield, and he 
chafed under it whenever he was at home. He 
said that he hated to cheat women. It went 
against him to be the receiver of stolen goods 
whether these were the confidences of those who 
loved him, or the proceeds of a less material, more 
dangerous, and more manly robbery. 

" I always feel like a thief at home," he said ; " a 
sneak-thief in an orphan asylum at that ; not a 
brave highwayman, who takes his chances and 
risKs his own skin with men." So Preston stayed 
away from home all he could. 

Fred Harmon had no such inconveniently primi- 
tive prejudices. His mother knew that he did not 
believe " in that sense " many of the things to 
which he subscribed outwardly ; but she did not 
know that he had still a third set of opinions and 



Is (Ms your Son, my Lord? 171 

actions which he did not care to submit even to her 
lenient inspection. The basis of his moral and 
mental attitude she knew, and had helped, she 
proudly felt, to form ; but the full development of 
her teachings she did not suspect, nor could she 
have believed, if the results had been pointed out 
to her, that they were anything short of the imag- 
inings of a madman, or the machinations of an 
enemy. 

Duplicity she had translated into tact, and had 
lived the translation. Her son " reverted," as they 
say in evolution, to the original type. 

Selfishness she framed and draped as the just 
sense of one's duties in ideal self-development. 
She always held that this was for the benefit of 
others, for the Race. Fred wrote " race " with a 
small r and " Self " with a large S, and he elimi- 
nated " others " altogether. 

His mother believed that the Episcopal Church 
held the highest ideals in morals, religion, art, and 
music, to be found in this world. Fred believed 
that it was the organization of greatest power and 
influence to which a gentleman of culture could 
belong, and that it was a social lever and a moral 
screen that no man in his senses could afford to 
ignore. Fred was under the impression that his 
mother secretly agreed with this opinion. He had 
no doubt that the Broad Churchmen all did, and 
that the High Churchmen were clinging to the old 



172 Is this your /Son, my Lord? 

beliefs, either through fear, or ignorance of the 
tendency of the times. In short, it simply was not 
within Mr. Fred Harmon's comprehension that any 
one was ever real, and frank, and direct in any- 
thing whatsoever, unless he were either weak- 
minded or without the adequate culture to cover 
his tracks. Therefore Mr. Fred Harmon did not 
feel in the least like a sneak-thief in an orphan , 
asylum, nor at a disadvantage morally with any one. 
When his artificial ethical legs were once knocked 
from under him, he had no doubt whatever that 
everybody else had stood on exactly the same kind, 
and that they, too, had cast them in due season. 

Preston Mansfield looked upon himself as the 
victim of a deliberate piece of peculiar and un- 
accountable villainy. He hated his father dead, 
as he would have hated him living, and he believed 
that few other sons had ever been so cursed. He 
thought that he had been deliberately crippled in 
life, maimed in his self-esteem, and robbed of the 
chance to be honest. 

" I don't doubt I'd have made a fool of myself 
often," he would say, grinding his teeth ; " but I 
don't believe that I would have turned out a 
brute." 

He was talking to Harvey Ball about it, once, 
and Harvey had said : " Oh, well, Pres., so long as 
you look at it that way, what is to hinder you from 
turning over a new leaf, as they say ? Start over." 



Is this your /Son, my Lord? 173 

" Start over ? Where ? New leaf ! Look here, 
Ball, you're not a hypocrite, at least. Now tell me 
frankly, openly, squarely ; if you had a sister whom 
you loved, would you be willing for her to marry 
me?" 

" I'd a great deal rather she would marry you 
than a good many other fellows that I know ; " said 
Harvey, evasively, thinking of Maude Stone. 

" Humph ! " said Preston. " In other words, you 
prefer Mephistopheles to the Devil. You do not 
want to be killed ; but if you have got to be, why 
you would take to a gun-shot rather than to a 
hempen rope. Well, so should I, but I did not 
ask you any such question. I asked " He paused. 
Presently he said : 

" Never mind that ; that is the view of her 
brother or father. Now, suppose we take her per- 
sonally. What do you think she would say or feel, 
if she knew the truth ? Well, do you know, Ball, 
I've got a prejudice somehow," he pronounced 
the word " prejudice " scornfully, " against trick- 
ing a good woman into marrying me. I think it is 
a damned low piece of business to deliberately 
deceive a girl to her rum, whether it is for once or 
for a lifetime. If a grown-up woman, who knows 
what she is about and what it all means, makes up 
her mind to go to the devil, I suppose my con- 
science is as easy as anybody's about helping her 
along ; but I'll be hanged if I've got the heart to 



174 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

cheat a young girl into a liaison whether it is 
temporary or permanent, in or out of marriage 
when she thinks it means one thing and I know 
that it means another. Well, if any decent woman 
knew the truth about me, do you suppose I could 
get her to live with me ? Then my married bliss 
would have to depend upon my cheating her suc- 
cessfully all my life, wouldn't it ? Now look here, 
Ball, how do you think you would feel, to wake up 
and remember, every morning of your life, that 
you had got to deceive that woman all day - about 
things that would break her heart ? " 

"I don't believe that I'd like it," acquiesced 
Harvey. 

"Like it!" exclaimed Preston, bringing his fist 
down with a bang. "Like it! If you had any 
respect for her, not to mention love, if you had 
a decent instinct, not to mention self-respect, 
you simply could not do it, that's all. And I have 
been robbed of my chance in lif e Damn him ! " 

He said the last so fiercely, he said it with such 
bitter vehemence, that Harvey Ball stood up 
startled. 

" You wonder who it is I hate like that, Ball ; " 
said the young man, ramming his hands into his 
pockets and pacing up and down the floor. " Well, 
I'll tell you. I'll tell you because you read me that 
letter from your home, and I just thought if I had 
had your chance, by gad, I would have been your " 



Js this your Son^ my Lord? 175 

equal, he was going to say, but he stopped and 
then said : I'd have been able to feel as you do. 
It was my father I was talking about just now." 

Harvey stared at him in consternation. 

" I do not wonder you are shocked and sur- 
prised. I know the kind of father you've got and 
what you think of him. Well, mine's dead. I'm 
glad of that at least, for I believe I would kill him 
if he wasn't." 

"Don't, Preston," said Harvey Ball, putting a 
hand on his shoulder. " Don't say that. You're 
all worked up about something. You'll regret it 
after a while." 

" No, I shall not," said Preston, savagely ; " but I 
just tell you what it is, Ball, you don't know what 
you owe your father. It seems to me if I had had 
such a one, I'd rather die than hurt him. My God, 
I wanted to love my father ; but you do not under- 
stand it, and I can't tell you any more." 

The memory of this conversation swept over 
Harvey Ball the day he came home to talk over 
Albert's career, and his recent letter which seemed 
he could not imagine why to have caused such 
a commotion. 

"Don't you believe in the Bible, son?" his 
father had asked, and his mother's face was troubled 
and anxious. "Don't you think your mother's 
religion and mine is good enough for you and for 
Albert?" 



176 Is this your /Son, my Lord? 

"Don't put it that way, father," said Harvey, 
touched and surprised. " I do not believe in the 
Bible in any sense that means it is different from 
any other old book, and as to the religion of you 
and mother being good enough for me " the 
young fellow paused. Then he went on slowly, 
" Father, did you ever have a University education ? 
Did mother?" 

" You know, my son, that I never saw the inside 
of a school after I was fifteen ; " said his mother a 
little reproachfully, and old Mr. Ball looked at his 
son with surprised eyes in which a shadow of disap- 
pointment began to find place. 

" Well, then, mother, do you think it would be 
fair to ask me, because I wanted to go to college,- 
and father could afford to send me do you think 
it would be fair to reproach me by asking if the 
education which was good enough for you and 
father, was not good enough for me ? I do not be- 
lieve that you and father think that I have shown 
disrespect to you because I learned geometry and 
you did not. Certainly I never looked at it that 
way." 

" Of course not, son," said his mother, puzzled. 
Harvey turned to his father. 

" Now, father, why not put it the same way in 
religion ? I have not come to the same conclusions 
you say that you have, though from your life and 
training I am sure I can't see that we can be very 



Ts this your Son^ my Lord? 177 

far apart in reality. But suppose we are, suppose 
I have drawn wholly different conclusions from 
yours and mother's; suppose I do not believe what 
you and mother do about the Bible, is that disre- 
spect to you ? Is it fair to state it as you did ? 
Look here, father, I would rather do almost any- 
thing than hurt you or mother. I think you are 
the two very best people in this world, and I love 
you the best, you know;" he did not think it 
necessary to mention Maude Stone just then; "but 
father, I don't believe as you seem to expect me to, 
and I am sure you cannot want me to lie about it. 
You have given me a good many advantages that 
you never had yourself. I have read and studied 
and thought in new lines and channels that were 
not open to you. I have tried to make good use of 
the opportunities you gave me, and, father, it really 
seems to me that this is a far higher compliment to 
you and to mother, than for me to have stopped 
where you did, where you were forced to stop, 
because you had no further opportunities to go 
on." 

Mr. Ball moved the book in front of him, but 
said nothing, and Harvey began again : " Would 
you think it showed more respect to you if I had 
refused to go to school after I wa.s fifteen, on the 
ground that I thought my mother's education was 
good enough for me ? Now, what you taught me 
of religion if we can call it that I think was 



178 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

the very best part of your belief. ' Be honest and 
kind ' was the creed. And, father, you know it was 
always on natural grounds you taught me this." 

The old man moved a trifle uneasily, and Mrs. 
Ball murmured something about its being all their 
fault. 

" Fault ! " exclaimed Harvey. " Why, mother, it 
was right. Your love and instinct led you to give 
us the very best training that two boys ever had. 
I never realized it until I went to college. Then 
I knew the worth of it, and thanked you both 
every day I lived. I was master of myself, no 
matter what changes of opinion swept about me. 
I had a solid footing, and, father, I'm sorry to say 
that very few of the fellows had. I owed it all to 
you and mother. I knew that, and I thank you 
now, on my knees, that you trained me as you did ; " 
and the young fellow slipped down beside his 
mother, put his arms about her waist, and kissed 
her forehead, lips, and hand. His father reached 
over and laid a hand gently upon his shouldej. 
Presently Harvey went on : 

" My reasoning and information led me to form 
certain conclusions about the Bible and religion. 
Was that disrespect to you ? Or was it only that 
I told you what I thought? You taught me to 
tell the truth. Which would have shown more 
respect to you: to refuse to use the brains and 
opportunities you gave me, or to use them and 



Js this your /Son, my Lord? 179 

then refuse to tell the truth about my conclusions, or 
to have striven to blind myself and you to what I 
grew to think? Does it show more respect for 
one's parents, more love for them, to decline to go 
beyond them in education, prosperity, or religion ? 
Father, I cannot believe that you think so. Do 
the men who talk about holding this or that belief, 
because their mother's religion is good enough for 
them, talk the same way about her education, her 
financial condition, her views on politics, or any 
other subject on earth ? Don't you think, father, as 
you recall the men who talk that way, that you 
recognize some other motive than that of simple 
devotion to their mothers' belief that goes the 
length of identical thought ? Do you want me to 
think exactly the same thoughts you do? If I 
cannot, do you want me to pretend to ? " 

The young fellow's lips were white, and he still 
held his mother about the waist. She bent forward 
and kissed him. 

There was a long pause. The old man moved 
uneasily in his chair, but no word escaped his lips. 
At last Harvey's voice broke the strained silence 
again. 

" I cannot understand this change, father. You 
have always expected me to be simply and openly 
frank with you. It is not it never has been a 
question of whether we agreed in opinion. Since 
we differ if we differ am I to be untrue to 



180 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

myself ? Am I to pretend to hold your exact views, 
if I do not? Such servility as that is demanded 
nowhere else in life except in religion, and only 
in the one religion that claims to make men true to 
themselves, to the highest that is in them, the 
religion that claims to bring peace and goodwill 
on earth. Peace ! " he added, sorrowfully, " Peace, 
and good will, and joy, and unity! Is it peace that 
simply seeks to silence opposition by force, physi- 
cal or mental? The kind of peace that demands 
subjection on one hand, and asserts the right of 
arrogant authority on the other, is not worth having. 
It is not peace at all. It is the most abject slavery. 
It is tyranny unspeakable. I cannot think you 
want that, father ; it is not like you. It is opposed 
to your whole life and your splendid character. 
Father! father! what does it all mean? Are we 
to wreck our confidence and unity, and wound our 
love for the sake of this shadow? Suppose you 
are right and I am wrong, still, what is it you want ? 
Silence ? Deception ? Why ? What is gained by 
either ? And think oh, think, father, of all that 
is lost! Is it well to build a wall between us on 
any subject ? Is a religion, can anything be good 
that demands either silence or subjection? O 
father, I am stunned, and perhaps I am talking 
wildly. Perhaps I shall wound you. Perhaps I 
have said too much, and yet forgive me. I love 
you too well to be able to give up, without a 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 181 

struggle, our life-long confidence and harmony, our 
frank and open comradeship. 

" We have differed often, always in politics 
but this is our first " he was going to say " break," 
then " quarrel " came to his mind ; but after a pause 
he. said, with unsteady voice, " misunderstanding. 
And it is like a blow in the face. It staggers and 
blinds me." His mother drew his head up against 
her breast and held her trembling hand on his cheek, 
kissing his hair. 

" My son, my blessed boy," she said, trying vainly 
to check the tears as they fell from her eyes, " I am 
sure your father was wrong to say that. I do not want 
the husk of your devotion to me and to what I think, 
or believe. I want my honest son. I want the boy 
who shows his love not by talking about my religion 
being good* enough for him and so shifting the duty 
he owes himself to think for himself on one who has 
had far less training in thought. I want my brave, 
honest, candid boy. He will think nobly, although 
he thinks differently from his mother." She ended 
with a little sob and kissed him again. Harvey 
sprang to his feet and went rapidly out of the room. 
His father followed him. He found him in the hall, 
with his hat on, leaning against the stairs. 

The son looked at his father doubtfully. 

" Harvey," said the old man huskily, " Harvey ! " 
and he held out both his arms. " I was wrong. I 
was not fair to you, my boy." 



182 Is this your /Son, my Lord? 

"Hush, father, hush," said Harvey, from his 
father's shoulder ; "do not blame yourself. I un- 
derstand. Let me go now. It makes me feel as 
though I had quarrelled with you and mother. O 
father, could anything on earth do that, but reli- 
gion ? Isn't it all wrong some way ? Isn't it cruel, 
this forcing people to think one way, or else sacri- 
fice either candor, or confidence and harmony? I'm 
going to see Uncle Stone, father. I feel sore and 
strained. Will you go ? " 

The old man put on his hat and took Harvey's 
arm, and they passed out of the door. 

"I shall talk to John," he thought, "and let 
Maude cheer Harvey up. I'm an old fool. I have 
shut the door of the boy's heart toward me for the 
first time in all our lives. For what? For what?" 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 183 



CHAPTER XII. 

" The first condition of human goodness Is something to love." George 
Eliot. 

" There Is a sort of wrong that can never be made up for." Ibid. 

" We wretches cannot tell out all our wrong 
Without offence to decent happy folk. 
I know that we must scrupulously hint 
With half-words, delicate reserves, the thing 
Which no one scrupled we should feel In full. 
Let pass the rest, then; only leave my oath 

. . . man's violence 
Not man's seduction, made me what I am." 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 

" Truth's a dog that must to kennel." Shakespeare. 

" Doctor," said Preston Mansfield, coming into 
ray office suddenly, one day, " doctor, I'm a pretty 
fellow to be playing the role of virtuous protector 
of endangered innocence ; but I suppose a man 
never gets so low down that he doesn't plume him- 
self on that noble quality in his nature, provided 
the endangered innocent happens to be a member 
of his own family, or if he isn't the man from 
whom she needs protection. The most expert 
horse thief makes a good lyncher, and the only 
member of a vigilance committee I ever knew had 
committed murder in another State." He flung 
himself into a deep armchair and put one leg over 
the arm. Then he went on satirically : 

" Not that we care a fig for justice to girls, not 
that we feel for the woes of the outraged; but 



184 Is this your Son, my Lordf 

simply and solely that, being a part of our own 
families, wrong to them will cause us personal dis- 
tress and inconvenience." 

I began to protest, but he held his hand up to 
check me and went rapidly on : 

" Hold on a minute till I give you my proofs. 
Don't make up your mind that I'm a dime museum 
freak until I state my case. I try to protect my 
sisters from other fellows ; other fellows are trying 
to shield theirs from each other even Fred Har- 
mon would fight to the death for his if he had one ; 
well now, why ? If it were a manly desire, honestly 
felt, to protect the helpless and innocent or inex- 
perienced ; if it were from a sense of fairness ; if it 
were innate honor; if it were because we believe 
that we have no right to allow the ruin of the life 
of another being whom it is in our power to 
shield, why, don't you see, doctor, we wouldn't 
have to watch each other at all ? Our sisters would 
all be safe ; because every man would do his level 
best to see that every girl had a fair chance to grow 
up and make her own choice of her own life when 
she was old enough to understand ; but you know 
that it isn't so. You know that nine-tenths of the 
girls that go wrong are tricked or bullied into it, 
in the first place, by some scoundrel who knows 
perfectly well what he is about. What does he 
care for her ruined life ? What does he care for 
justice or honor toward the helpless? She isn't 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 185 

his sister. It won't react on him if she is dis- 
graced. I tell you, doctor, men are a bad lot. 
You know perfectly well that there is a tacit under- 
standing among them not to give each other away. 
They all watch women and shield each other. 
They don't even want a woman to tell the truth in 
books. They pretend the conditions do not exist, 
that women are morbid and erotic. I don't believe 
that they know the meaning of unselfishness. 
Every act of their lives is for themselves. They 
howl about wanting their families to be happy; 
but it is all because it would be less comfortable for 
themselves if they were not. My proof? Why, we 
all constantly do the things secretly that we know 
would make our families most unhappy if they knew 
it. Don't we ? No evasion, now ; don't we ? 
My God, doctor, I'm beginning to wish that I'd 
been born a decent horse or a good dog. I'm 
disgusted with the human race. One half knaves 
and the other half fools. I'm ashamed to be- 
long to either one, and the worst of it is, in my 
case, that I don't belong to the fools and I don't 
want to." 

"What is the matter, now, Preston?" I asked. 
" Can I do anything for you ? " The young fellow's 
bitterness had, in these days, become quite familiar 
to me, and he appeared to take comfort in coming 
to me from time to time to berate himself and men 
in general. 



186 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

" Matter enough," he replied, savagely ; " but I 
don't see that you can do anything about it. I don't 
know why I came to you only it is a little 
habit I have," he added, laughing. Then looking 
steadily at me for a moment, his eyes actually filled 
with tears as he said, huskily : " I wish to heaven 
you had been my father ! " 

He got up and went quickly to the window. 
Presently I went to him and taking his arm led him 
back into the room. 

" Tell me what it is, Preston, " I said. If I 
can help you I shall be very glad. You know 
that." Still he was silent. Presently I said, 
" Preston, let me tell you one thing. It is only fail- 
that I should. When I came home from abroad, I 
made up my mind that I had been mistaken in you 
when jou were a boy. The day I met you in front 
of the Fifth Avenue Hotel, I decided that you were 
a bad lot, as you say, and that your case was simply 
hopeless." 

He laughed a little bitterly at the memory, and 
then broke in : 

" Of course you did ; you're not an idiot." 

Then he turned to me with his face flushed : " Do 
you remember what I asked you that day ? I have 
hoped since that you had forgotten it or, better 
still, that you had not heard Avhat I said. I might 
have known better. You always notice, and 
Hell ! what a brute I was ! Why didn't you knock 



Js this your Son, my Lord? 187 

me down ? " I made no reply. Presently he went 
on. "I wonder you didn't kick me. I deserved it 
richly ; but the fact is, doctor, I had made up my 
mind then, that there were only two kinds of men. 
I knew you weren't a fool and and I had 
often wondered to tell the truth, I'm glad you 
came back, or ... I'm glad I know you, doctor. 
It gives me it makes me doubt oh, hang it, I 
can't talk ! " and, struggling with his emotions, he 
began pacing up and down the room. 

" Don't try to express it, Pres.," said I. " I think 
I understand ^about what you mean ; but don't set 
me up on a pedestal. I suppose I've done a good 
many things in my life that your sensitive con- 
science would revolt at, and! 

He stopped short in his walk, and laughed up- 
roariously. 

" My ' sensitive conscience ' is good ! O Lord, doc- 
tor, but you are a droll bird when you make up your 
mind to it," and he went off into a fit of laughter 
again. Suddenly he stopped and came close up to 
me. He put his hand out and I took it. I was 
surprised at the revelation. It was as cold as the 
hand of a corpse. His voice trembled when he 
tried to speak. "Doctor," he said, closing his 
fingers firmly over mine ; " for God's sake don't 
tell me if you are like the rest of us. I watched 
you, at first, hoping, and " confidently expecting, to 
find you out. After a while I began to fear that I 



188 Js this your Son, my Lord? 

might, and now " he paused to steady his 
voice; "and now I believe that it would half 
kill me if I did. Let me believe in one man. Let 
me believe wholly, absolutely, fervently, in you. 
I must, or I shall go mad. Lie out of it, go away, 
or send me away ; do anything ! but for God's sake 
don't ever let me find out that you are just a great, 
big male brute like the rest of us ! " 

He was so much moved and excited that I said : 
" Sit down, Preston ; do you know that you are 
on the verge of hysterics ? No, hysterics are not 
confined to women, by any means ; and, my boy," 
said I, laying my hand on his shoulder, " they are 
not always a sign of weakness, either. In your 
case they are the accompaniment of a mental exal- 
tation that has made me your friend again, and 
convinced me that my early estimate of you as a 
boy was quite right. You were made for a splen- 
did fellow, Preston. You were caught in the 
awful meshes of fate ; you were not strong enough 
to stem the tide. First, your own ignorance was 
against you, and later on, the training by I 
paused to think of. a mild word to apply to his 
father ; but before I had found it, he had flung him- 
self, full length, on my lounge, and looking up at 
me like a caged creature, said through his set 
teeth : 

" Don't mention him to me, doctor. I've tried 
not to curse him, openly, since that day at his 



Is this your Son,' my Lord? 189 

grave. I know how that shocked you; but but 
now, when my little sister is in danger, it all 
comes back to me with renewed force. I have 
never told you what he did. I want to tell you 
now. May I ? I want you to know it. No one 
else does, and and I want you to understand what 
makes me almost a madman at times. I did not 
sleep last night ; I could not. I had been posing 
all day to myself as little Dell's guardian and 
protector, and was planning to send her away until 
she should forget the handsome face and attractive 
voice of my friend, Fred Harmon." 

He laid satirical emphasis on the word friend, 
and I looked up startled, for I had seen the 
child, she was no more than this, with her fourteen 
years of utter inexperience, walking with their city 
guest only yesterday. He noticed my changed 
expression. 

"No," he said, "no great harm is done yet, 
only the poor child is in love with him and just in a 
frame of mind to believe anything he says or do any- 
thing he asks. He knows it. Well," he broke off 
suddenly, and then began again in a bitter tone. 
" Well, I know Fred Harmon. You don't. If he 
thinks he can have a pleasant time, increase his 
comfort or happiness, or serve any purpose whatso- 
ever, by tearing out the heart of a rabbit or a girl, 
from time to time, he would give it no more serious 
thought than just enough to make sure that he 



190 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

wouldn't be found out or If he was found out, to 
be moderately certain he was in a position to make 
it look as if he were on the right side, at least on 
the popular side. It wouldn't give him a pang, so 
long as he had the best of it, so long as society 
smiled upon him. Well, you know what society is. 
A good surface appearance is all it wants of a man, 
so far as character goes. But just let a breath of 
pollution touch a girl's cheek and she is hunted 
down and howled at, until she commits suicide or 
worse." 

He covered his eyes with his hands for a moment, 
and then went on. 

" I have driven at least one girl to that ; fa 
the man in the grave out there, and I. I can't 
marry her. There is no way that I can repair the 
crime none whatever and yet she is an outcast, 
to-day, and I am welcomed by those who pass her 
by. It was not her fault at any time ! " This was 
a new phase of it. He noticed my changed expres- 
sion. 

Wait," he said, till I tell you. I had a letter 
from her yesterday, just when I was posing as Dell's 
defender and was beginning to feel quite virtuous." 
He ground his teeth. " Nellie was with me when 
I got it. I think you know, doctor, that I love 
Nellie and wish that I could marry her ; but " 

" Does Nellie care for you, Preston ? " I asked, 
struck with an idea of helping him out, if I found 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 191 

that his cousin loved him. But he took the question 
as a sort of accusation. 

" I'm afraid she does," he groaned, and yet with 
a warmth of happy emotion in his voice. "I'm 
afraid she does, doctor, and that she thinks 
strangely of me that I do not say something. Yes- 
terday she looked at the letter I so hastily put in 
my pocket, very curiously indeed, and I I lied to 
her." He put his hand up to his eyes again as if 
shading them from a memory. 

"Oh, I hate to lie! Most of all to her!" he 
exclaimed vehemently. 

" Why don't you tell her the whole truth, Pres. ?" 
I asked. He shrank back as if I had struck him. 

"The whole bare ugly truth. Give her your 
side. Tell her the extenuating circumstances " 

" Humph ! " he said with a curled lip. 

" Tell her that an older man perhaps you need 
not say who he was " He sprang to his feet and 
took two or three hasty steps. Then he faced me 
like a chained tiger. 

" Don't ! Leave Nellie out, just now. Let me 
tell you the whole damnable story first. Then 
you may tell me if you think it one calculated to 
win the confidence and love of a girl, or to keep 
it after it is won," he added tremblingly. 

I saw that he dared not marry her with his secret 
untold, and that he dreaded lest he should lose her 
love if he told her. 



192 fs this your Son, my X,ordf 

" Well, tell me, Preston, if you think it will help 
you ; and if I can do anything for you afterward, 
you know I shall be glad to. I believe in you, Pres., 
old fellow," I added, putting my hand on his arm 
" I believe that you have never had half a chance. 
Perhaps it isn't too late yet to make a fresh start. 
Your inclinations and conscience have never fallen 
in with your training. That is a good beginning." 

" No, I haven't had a fair show," he said, despair- 
ingly ; " but it is too late now. Read that." He 
handed me the letter he had received the day 
before. 

" I was beginning almost to forget and be happy. 
I was driving with Nellie, and was going to ask her 
what to do about Dell I was a great fool ever to 
have asked Harmon here, when this was handed 
out at the post-office. I had to hold the horse, 
and so Nellie got out and went in. She got it and 
handed it to me ; " and he breathed hard at the 
recollection. I read the letter in silence. 

"Mr. Mansfield, I have learned your right 
address at last," it said ; " and unless you send me 
a thousand dollars at once I shall come there to see 
you. The children are both well, God help me ! I 
asked at the school yesterday. I saw them for a 
moment. They did not know me, and I only said 
that I had been sent to ask if they were well, and if 
they needed anything. I am glad, at least, that 
you do not forget them so far as money goes." 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 193 

I handed the letter back to him, and tried to 
think of something to say that would not seem 
cruel ; but he spoke first. 

" Do you think that is a promising letter to give 
Nellie to read ? Well, I will not marry any girl, 
and lie to her either about my past, or my present, 
or my future. I've had enough of the humiliation 
of deception, and I will not disgrace myself, or the 
girl I love, by compelling her to live with a man 
she would not live with if she knew the truth about 
him, even if that man does happen to be myself. 
We'd say any man was a brute, we'd say the law 
was cruelly unjust, to force a woman to marry a 
man whose character she loathed ; who required of 
her honor, and gave her dishonor ; who demanded 
all of her life, but gave only a scrap of his thrown 
to her as a bone is thrown to a dog after he is 
done with it ; who. demanded of her that she be 
good, and pure, and noble, and honorable toward 
him, while he made no pretence to offer her more 
than the mere shell of these. I'm pretty low, 
doctor, but, by gad, I'm not quite down to that 
yet. I won't do it. I won't deliberately cheat a 
woman I love. Look here," he demanded, " I'm 
not a very good talker, but I know I'm right in the 
idea. Don't you think a good woman is as good as 
a good man, is worth as much ? Suppose we put 
it as a matter of merchandise. The value is equal, 
isn't it ? Well, now, suppose a fellow makes the 



194 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

trade. He pretends to give value for value, doesn't 
he? Well, the fact is, he simply deliberately 
cheats. He stacks the cards. He uses a marked 
deck. We say he isn't fit for decent society, if he 
does that at poker, or misrepresents in a horse 
trade, or a land sale, where there are other men, 
capable and experienced enough to take care of 
themselves ; but when it is a young girl, and her 
whole life is at stake, it is all right to deceive 
her into making the bargain." He got up and 
stood by the grate, with his elbow resting on the 
mantel. 

" I am Nellie's guardian and trustee since he 
died. What would people think of me if I lied to 
her about her money, and kept back and pocketed 
and turned to my own advantage her property, 
simply because I have the power to do it, and she 
trusts me ? The more she relies on my honor, the 
meaner it would be, wouldn't it ? Well, a woman 
has to trust wholly to a man's honor in marriage, 
and men think it is smart to deceive them. They 
have no sense of shame about it. Look at my 
mother ! Father would have murdered her if she 
had done half what he did. He demanded all of 
her life to be true to him, and he gave her, in ex- 
change, a miserable, beggarly, warped corner of a 
deceitful, underhanded, unclean nature in exchange 
for it. And he thought it was good enough for 
her. He had no sense of shame about it. 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 195 

"What did he give her in exchange for her honor 
and loyalty? Dishonor. What did he give her 
for her truth ? Lies. What did he take home to 
her every day of his life ? A mere shred of his 
nature, patched up and stuffed out and dressed to 
look real, and he depended entirely on her not find- 
ing it out on her strong faith in him to carry 
him through. He traded on her tenderest emotions 
and then pretended to love and respect her ! Bah ! 
That kind of love and respect wouldn't go down 
with him. Why should it with her? I tell you, 
doctor, I don't believe the man lives who loves 
his wife enough to be absolutely true to her ; to 
let her see every corner of his heart and life, 
both before and after marriage." Then suddenly 
facing me, " Do you ? " 

I opened my lips to reply ; but he checked me. 

"No, don't tell me yet what yon think, for it 
will it might put yourself in with the rest. 
Wait till I tell you the story of the girl who wrote 
that letter." 

" She seems to be one who threatens ; who is 
willing to " 

" Stop ! " he said. " She ought to threaten. She 
ought to force me to tell it all. She ought to 
demand that I take her up to the plane I live on. 
What right have I to let her be an outcast, socially, 
and I stay where I am ? Where I was ? Where 
she was before I before he " 



196 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

He stopped, with his voice shaking. After he 
regained control of it, he went on. 

" When you left us in New York that time, he 
tried all sorts of schemes with me. He took me 
to two or three gilded houses. Well, you know I 
was pretty shy of women and well, he didn't 
feel sure that I was properly started on the road to 
hell, so he took me to board in a house where there 
was a widow with a pretty little girl two years 
younger than I. You know I was seventeen." He 
began pacing the room again. 

" The widow was of good family, but poor, and 
she had gone to New York with the confidence of 
ignorance, to make a living for herself. The girl 
was large, well formed, and very pretty. I liked 
her ; but I was shy and she did most of the talking. 
My father was kind to the girl's mother, told her 
he would get her a better position she was writ- 
ing in a law office. He won her confidence, and after 
a while he asked her to let her little girl go to the 
matinee with us. Once or twice we took the 
mother, too; but she could not go often. She was 
pleased that her child had met with so safe and 
good a chance to have a little pleasure and catch 
a glimpse of the brighter side of life. 

" One day we took her to drive in Central Park. 
She had never driven there before and was en- 
chanted. She looked very pretty. I remember 
having an impulse to kiss her and the mere thought 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 197 

made me blush. After we left the Park it was 
along in the afternoon we drove into a side street 
that I knew nothing about. It was not very closely 
built up, and there was a large circular building of 
some kind. I remember that, because of some- 
thing I will tell you of later oh. We stopped oppo- 
site that, and fa he told me to hold the horses 
until he came back. He said he had an errand 
near by. He laughingly told the girl her name 
was Minnie Kent to get out and go with 
him. ' I can't trust you two youngsters here 
alone,' he said. < Pres. might get to making love to 
you and let the horses run away.' This so discon- 
certed me that I got the color of a beet, and she 
jumped out as if she had been pushed. She turned 
her ankle a little, and went away limping, but 
laughing to hide her embarrassment. She was a 
nice little girl, though she was n't so very bright 
and she but no matter, I must stick to my story, 
now that I am wound up to the point of telling it." 
The veins stood out on his forehead ; but he 
steadied his voice and went on. 

" They went around the circular building and 
disappeared. It seemed to me that they would 
never come back. I drove up and down and 
around and across ; but as I did not know just 
where they had gone, I went back and sat holding 
the horses where fa where he had left me. At 
last he came back alone and said that the girl had 



198 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

hurt her ankle so badly when she got out of the 
carriage that he had taken her to a doctor, near by, 
and that I was to drive the horses back to the stable, 
and then go to our boarding house. He would 
bring Minnie home very soon. lie told me not to 
tell any one of her mishap, because the doctor said 
that it would amount to very little, and there was 
no need to have it talked over by the people in the 
boarding house. I did exactly as he told me, and 
was at the window, two hours later, when he re- 
turned. Minnie was with him, and I saw that she 
had been crying. I thought the doctor had hurt or 
frightened her. He unlocked the door and let her 
in, and came directly up to our rooms. 

" That night at the dinner table Minnie fainted. 
It was my father who carried her upstairs and 
quieted her mother's fears. He sat by the girl until 
she fell asleep, after they had worked over her and 
given her some powders and a little champagne. 
Then he came to our rooms again. He was a little 
uneasy, but I did not notice it much. I was uneasy 
myself. I was afraid she had hurt herself seri- 
ously, and I thought her mother ought to know 
about it. But my fa he told me to mind my own 
business ; that the girl was a little frightened and a 
good deal hysterical (I have never heard the word 
since without feeling actually sick), and that she 
would be all right in the morning. He twitted me 
9, little, and said he guessed I was in love with her, 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 199 

or I wouldn't be so anxious. That silenced me 
effectually, as lie knew it would. She had promised 
to go with me alone to the matinee next day ; but 
when the time came she said she was not well 
enough to go. She seemed to avoid me, and treated 
my fa him very strangely, I thought ; but I fan- 
cied it was all because he had teased her about me. 
I suppose boys are never too young to be egotisti- 
cal. Her mother was very busy in those days and 
was at home but little. Then she was tired being 
unused to such steady work and kept her room 
to herself most of the time. By and by I noticed 
that my fa that he had gained complete control 
over Minnie. He asked her mother if the girl 
might again go with us to drive. Minnie began to 
protest almost tearfully ; but her mother said : 
'Nonsense, child, you are not afraid of horses at all. 
It will do you good. I want you to go ; you are 
looking pale.' Then she thanked us for all our 
kind attentions, and closing the door behind her 
went off smiling to her task, which" was to take her 
to Philadelphia for two days to copy some legal 
papers. She called back to Minnie to be sure to 
do as my fa as he told her, while she was away. 
Well, of course he found some way to make her go. 
When we were near the circular building he again 
told me to wait while he took Minnie with him. 
She had worn a thick veil, this time (she said it was 
to keep the wind from her face), and I thought I 



200 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

saw a tear behind it as she got out ; but, little fool 
that I was, I never dreamed what it all meant, and 
I was glad enough that he did not poke any more 
fun at me about love making, but just took her with 
him as a matter of course. After a while he came 
back saying that he would be delayed a good deal 
longer than he had expected, and for me to tie the 
horses and come with him. I went. I shall never 
forget the shock of what I saw, and the girl's wild 
despair when she saw me." 

Preston clinched his fists and walked several 
times across the room before he could control 
himself sufficiently to go on. "My f lie unlocked 
the street door as if he were used to the place, and 
went straight upstairs. The room he stopped at 
was in the back of the house, two flights up. He 
unlocked that door, too, pushed me in, and hastily 
closed and locked it behind me. The room was so 
dimly lighted that at first I could see nothing, and 
I was so surprised by my f , by his actions, that I 
stood perfectly still. Presently I saw some one 
move, and said, ' Minnie ? ' At the sound of my 
voice there was a wild cry, and she flew to the 
far end of the room. I went hastily toward her, 
and saw that she was only partially dressed. I 
was so shocked and frightened that I did not 
know what to do. I realized then, for the first 
time, something of what it all meant, and that he 
had locked us in and gone away ! I learned the 



Is this your Son, -my Lord f 201 

rest from her, by degrees, after I made her under- 
stand that I had not been, at any time, a party to 
the plot." He ground his teeth. " She sobbed, and 
sobbed. I tried to comfort her. I blamed my f 
him, and I cursed him, for the first time in my life. 
I have repeated that curse a thousand times since, 
but, my God, doctor, it was terrible then ! " 

" Sit down, Preston. You are " 

" Wait ! Let me finish ! Here is where my own 
devilment comes in. While I sat there with that 
girl in my arms, trying to comfort her, calling 
down the wrath of heaven on his head, the devil 
got the best of me. We were locked up there for 
hours together, and in promising to avenge her, 
in swearing to take her part against him, in the 
helplessness of our youth and ignorance, clinging 
to each other for mutual comfort, I added my 
infamy to his, and the girl was doubly damned, 
before we realized that sympathy could lead to 
crime ! " 

He sat down and wiped the beads of perspiration 
from his forehead. There was a long silence. 

" She told me that the first day he took her there 
he locked the door, and after trying to coax her 
to yield to him, had taken a revolver from his 
pocket and threatened her. She was too inexpe- 
rienced and young to doubt for a moment that he 
meant to shoot her. Then he told her that no 
one would ever know it if she kept quiet. If she 



202 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

made a fuss about it she was lost anyway, foi 
everyone knew the kind of house it was, and they 
had seen her go in willingly. Nobody would be- 
lieve her if she said she did not know. Oh, he used 
all the damnable arguments and threats and devices 
familiar to civilized savages, and afterward kept 
her quiet by promises and threats, and now I had 
added my crime to his, and the girl threatened to kill 
herself. She tried to jump out of the window. I 
caught her and well, I promised to marry her 
and I I meant it then. 

" There is no need to tell the rest not to you. 
You will know how it went on after that with such 
a teacher as my f , as that devil, to manage us. 
He did not let me marry her, of course. The girl 
was sacrificed, utterly, and I well, here I am!" 

He dropped both arms by his sides as he stood 
before me like a criminal waiting for his sentence. 
I was too much surprised and shocked to trust 
myself to speak. I had known his father as a 
thoroughly selfish man, with an undeveloped eth- 
ical nature ; as one of that great class of success- 
ful business men who think, in all sincerity, that 
all is grist that comes to their mill ; who are 
thorough believers in religion, and who do not know 
the meaning of morality ; who are honestly shocked 
by a declaration of disbelief in a vicarious atone- 
ment which shall purge themselves of any lapse 
from rectitude, which lapse they beMeve, with the 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 

faith of childhood, is a necessary part and parcel 
of depraved human nature. I was sure that Mr. 
Mansfield had died as confident of salvation for 
himself as he was that he had sinned. Had not 
the blessed Christ atoned for all the sins of frail 
humanity ? He believed this to be the truth, the 
fairest, most fortunate truth in all the world, for 
tempted, depraved humanity ; and he thanked God 
not as a hypocrite, but as a devout believer whose 
faith was too real and too complete ever to admit 
of a single doubt. 

He knew, did he not, that all men were tempted 
to do wrong ? He knew, did he not, that most of 
them yielded ? He believed that this was the 
result of original sin in Adam. He believed im- 
plicitly that Eve* was the active agent in that sin. 
Therefore it was only just that Eve's sinful daugh- 
ters should suffer most and be the victims of men, 
since all men were first her victims. If men could 
do right, if they could redeem themselves from 
their own debased tendencies, then why had Christ 
died ? If man is his own redeemer, what need of 
the plan of salvation ? The vicarious atonement 
became a hollow mockery if man could do right of 
his own motion if he could be taught that he 
must be his own redeemer. If he cannot, if he 
must yield to his passions, if he is totally depraved, 
and, as I say, Mr. Mansfield did not doubt it, 
then there was but the one way. Let Christ bear 



204 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

the burden as he had volunteered to do. Accept the 
redemption thankfully, humbly, without question 
and without reservation. Mr. Mansfield had always 
done this in perfect sincerity, and he daily prayed to 
be forgiven for any wrong he believed himself to 
have done. He believed that his prayers for pardon 
should be addressed to God, and that the plea upon 
which he should base the claim for forgiveness, was 
the love and death for his sins of the only begotten 
Son. He believed that a God could, and would have 
the right to, relieve him of all consequence of any 
crime or wrong he might commit (even though that 
wrong was toward other human beings), and that 
He would do it. Had He not promised ? Would 
not the Almighty redeem His pledge ? Had Christ 
died in vain ? Mr. Mansfield had settled all these 
points finally, in his own mind, and to his own sat- 
isfaction very early in life, and he was wont to say 
to his class in Sunday-school that he thanked God 
that he had never wavered in his absolute belief 
and consoling faith from that time on. And he 
spoke the simple truth. This faith had ever been 
a solace and support to him. He often confessed 
that he was the chief of sinners that his feet had 
slipped, again, and he felt better after the con- 
fession. " But though my sins are as scarlet they 
shall be whiter than snow. It is for such as I that 
Christ died, for poor weak humanity, unable to 
save itself, incapable of resisting temptation, whose 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 205 

feet slip by the way, whose sinful passions overcome 
them. Believe on me and ye shall have everlast- 
ing life.' Cast your burdens on the sinless One who 
gave Himself a willing sacrifice that whosoever 
believeth on him shall have everlasting life." 

Mr. Mansfield had no doubt that everlasting life 
would be a blessing and a joy to him. If he ever 
thought of Minnie Kent exactly in this connection, 
he knew that she could gain the same priceless boon 
by a simple act of faith, and he thought that God 
would undoubtedly soften her heart before she died, 
so that she might accept salvation. If she did not, 
r and he was deprived of the pleasure of seeing 
her in the next world, it would be her own delib- 
erate refusal, and she must choose her way for 
eternity. No one could do that for her. I knew 
so well how he had argued to himself, when he 
had thought about it at all. I knew so well that 
his faith had comforted and upheld him all his 
life long. He had not used his religion as a cloak. 
His religion was his cloak. I looked at his son, 
standing before me now with both arms by his 
sides and with hands clinched, waiting for me to 
speak, and I found myself dumb. 

" Did your father ever realize and try to atone for 
his crime ? " arose to my lips ; but a flood of mem- 
ories of the man checked me before I gave utter- 
ance to the words. "I did not think he was 
capable of that," shaped itself in my mind, and 



206 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

then I remembered that it was very nearly this 
that he had asked me to do, or help him to accom- 
plish, years ago. The minutes stretched out, and 
still I had not spoken. Nothing that I could think 
of seemed suitable to say. At last the young fellow 
shook himself as if trying to be freed from bonds, 
and raised his eyes to mine. 

" I don't wonder that you are silent, doctor," he 
said slowly, " but oh, say something ! Say any- 
thing ! 1 have borne it alone as long as I can, and 
you are my only hope. Say something, say some- 
thing, doctor, or I shall go mad ! " 

" Have you ever thought that it may not be too 
late to marry her yet, Preston? to sacrifice your- 
self, and your love for another, in an effort to do all 
you can to undo this terrible double wrong? Has it 
occurred to you that you have no right to think of 
your own happiness, and that you should make her 
your honored wife?" I asked. 

He burst into a laugh as mirthless as it was dis- 
cordant. "And so even you think that by marry- 
ing her I could give her respectability, if I cannot 
give her love, and that by giving her a loveless hus- 
band I can make reparation to her ! Let me tell 
you something, doctor. I spent about two years 
making up my mind to do that. I felt perfectly 
heroic and virtuous when the time came. I pitied 
myself. I went to her, one day, and presented 
the case from that outlook." He paused and I 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 207 

said : " I am glad you did that, Preston. She was 
grateful and pleased, no doubt, even if some cause 
prevented you, later on, from doing it. " 

" O Lord, yes, she was pleased and grateful ! " 
he said with a dry sarcasm that was steeped in gall. 
"Her gratitude and pleasure were beautiful to 
behold. She waited until I had finished my gener- 
ous offer and was expecting the fruits of my hero- 
ism to envelope us both in a perfect sea of tender 
self abnegation, when she inquired calmly, but with 
scorn unspeakable, 

" ' How could you make me respectable ? How can 
you give me that which you do not possess yourself ? 
How could a permanent connection with you con- 
fer upon me anything admirable ? Make an honest 
woman of me, indeed ! You have more than you 
can do, Preston, to make an honest man of your- 
self. I am, and always have been, far more than 
your equal. You and your fiend of a father once 
had the power to commit a crime against me and 
against those two helpless children who will always 
bear the curse of your blood ; but you have never 
since I was old enough to understand had the 
power to make me commit the worst of all crimes 
against myself. No, I will not marry you. 1 am 
low enough already. For the sake of the children ? 
How can it benefit them to know that they have 
two such parents? One is quite enough ; but they 
are to have neither. Thank God ! illegitimate chil- 



208 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

dren belong to the mother who suffered for them. 
It is only the married mother who suffers the deg- 
radation of not owning her own child.' All this was 
when she had made up her mind to place the chil- 
dren at school and have. them educated as orphans. 
She watches them from afar, and if my cheques do 
not reach them in time if she fears I may neglect 
their support I get a letter like that." He still 
held the crumpled paper in his hand. He wiped the 
beads of dampness from his brow, and I offered 
him a glass of wine. 'He swallowed it at a gulp. 
Presently he faced me again with the same calm 
desperation with which he had just spoken. 

" No, doctor, there doesn't seem to be any way 
out of it at all. Consequences are unrelenting. 
This is the very reason I so hate my father. He 
has placed me where I can neither repair the past 
for others nor for myself. And I cannot begin 
anew with that burden on my soul that stain on 
my life. I want Nellie to know that I love her too 
well to ask her to marry the moral leper who was 
scorned by a woman who spoke only the truth when 
she said : ' You cannot give what you do not possess 
yourself. You cannot make me respectable.' All 
she said was perfectly true. Her position in the 
matter is beyond argument. It is the impudent 
arrogance of power that enables men who have 
injured women, to talk about making their victims 
' respectable ' afterward. It is not the beggar who 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 209 

offers alms. It is not the thief's prerogative to sit 
on the bench. She was right. It was a greater 
insult for me to assume that I could lift her up, than 
if I had struck her. If I had asked her to marry 
me, to make me respectable, to make me reparation 
for all that was lost out of my life, there might 
have been some sense in it. It might be possible 
for a woman (if she loved a man well enough) to 
give him respectability by marrying him after he 
had seduced or injured her ; but for him to pretend 
or assume that he can give it to her that is im- 
possible. Minnie Kent is not, and never has been, 
a bad woman. She makes her living now in the 
only way that Christian society leaves open to her ; 
but she still has too much self-respect to marry a 
man she does not love and cannot respect 
especially the one who injured her. If she had 
loved me, it would be different, perhaps. She is a 
brave woman. She might have forgiven me if her 
heart had been on my side, for she knows as well 
as I do that in the beginning I was but little more 
to blame than she. She always says that she does 
not blame me particularly. She looks upon me as 
almost as much of a victim at the start as she was. 
Oh, she is fair enough, doctor; but that doesn't 
help matters out much. She said " His lips 
trembled and he waited to command himself. 
" She says that I that she never looked at me, 
or thought of me, as as I. I only represent 



210 Is this your /Son, my Lord? 

him to her. I stand for I am little or nothing 
to her, in ray own person ; but I am everything 
devilish to her as as his representative. As her 
eternal curse from him through him. ... I do 
not tell it very well ; but I thought I could quite 
understand her that day. I can't make you see how 
it looked to her how she made it look to me." 

" Yes, Preston," I said ; " you do make me see. 
But don't try to. Don't " 

He lifted his hand to stop me and went on. 

" Oh, heavens, doctor, why prolong the agony ? 
Don't you see that it is all quite hopeless quite f 
Do you wonder that I hate my father with a hatred 
that is woven into every fibre of my being ? Do 
you wonder that I am glad he died before I 
awoke to the deeper meanings of life, for fear that 
my own hand would have been the one to take his 
life ? Great God ! do you wonder at anything in a 
world where fathers commit such crimes against 
their sons where daughters are hunted of men 
who are taught to believe that they can bestow re- 
spectability upon their victims or withhold it from 
them at their pleasure ? What an infamous train- 
ing it all is that teaches that the injured is the dis- 
graced, and that the villain who wrongs a girl stands 
on a pedestal to which he can lift her if he sees fit 1 
And then they have the impudence to say that men 
do not look down upon women, that it is only 
women who scorn the degraded of their sex ! Bah ! 



Js this your Son, my Lord? 211 

I haven't any patience with the kind of narcotics 
we men use to deaden the little sense of justice and 
honor we were born with." 

He arose and stood in front of me again as he 
ceased speaking, and seemed to expect me to reply. 

" Have you ever thought that you might tell 
Nellie the whole truth, just as you have told it to 
me, and that it might be a wise thing for you to 
do?" I asked, trying to speak quite naturally. 

" Have I thought of it ? " he exclaimed bitterly, 
and with a desperation that forced itself out on 
neck and forehead in great cords of tense muscles. 
" Have I thought of food when I am hungry ? But 
I dare not! I dare not! And then, look; I would 
have to tell of I would have to tell all of it from 
the first, and of your part about sister Allie. 
Of that object lesson you tried to give him ; of 
his infamous life, and she he he was always 
kind to her. He was like a father to her. She never 
knew any other. She would not be able to believe 
me, even if she wanted to, and she would not 
want to not against him. Then if she did, just 
look at it, doctor, just look at the whole thing as I 
have, a thousand times. She believes in him, not 
only because she loved him, but he did all the 
things that women are taught to believe are neces- 
sary in the life of a good man that is, he did 
outwardly, and as far as she ever knew. Now I 
don't. I refused to be made deacon in his place. 



212 Ts this your Son, my Lord? 

Nellie knows that I swear, and don't you see, 
the weight of evidence is all on his side even his 
death? 

" If he were alive I could do it better. I might 
risk it then, for I could force him to tell her that 
I was not lying, or I would tell no, I couldn't 
tell mother. It would kill her, and I could not do 
that, even to gain my own life. My God, doctor, 
don't you see that it is quite hopeless?" He 
broke off suddenly and threw himself into a chair. 
In a moment he was up again and pacing the floor 
nervously. 

" But suppose she did believe me ? Suppose I 
were to tell that story to Nellie, and suppose she 
forgave me (and there is very little a woman will 
not forgive if she loves a fellow ; I've learned 
that, and men trade on it the cowards ! ). Sup- 
pose she held him responsible for all that part, 
even then what can I do? Who is to shoulder 
the rest of my devilment? And you, naturally, 
could not take much stock in my general morals, 
after I was once fairly launched, could you ? Why, 
I outdid the old man in a couple of years. No," 
he added hastily, as he saw my look of inquiry. 

" Oh, no ; I never got quite so low as to dupli- 
cate his particular piece of villany. I never 
deliberately laid a trap to catch a young girl, and 
I never took part in but one thing that struck me 
as being based on the same kind of cold-blooded, 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 213 

cruel-hearted brutality. I assisted once at a rabbit 
coursing. It made me sick. A lot o'f well-dressed 
brutes on two legs cheered themselves hoarse 
at the sight of a few timid, panic-stricken, defense- 
less little rabbits running in the wildest, most 
hopeless flight from trained dogs that were urged 
on by the shouts of their high-bred owners. 
There was absolutely no chance for the defenseless 
little beast. All means of escape by flight were 
cut off ; but it was a noble sight to see a rabbit 
dash wildly here and there with its eyes starting 
from its head, and its heart beating like a trip- 
hammer, until the dogs finally ran it down and 
crushed its spine between their cruel teeth, when 
it was already about to die of fright! Do you 
know I couldn't help thinking of those rabbits as 
girls they are about as utterly defenseless 
and of the trained dogs as men who hunt them 
down, with as little mercy and about as little 
danger to themselves ? 

" I believe I could stand it to see them course cats 
or rats, or any kind of animal that can fight, that, 
has a chance, but the grade of brute enjoyment 
to be obtained in rabbit coursing strikes me as 
admirably adapted to the men who hunt down little 
girls, and use their money and their piety and 
position as a shield. 

" The fellows all guyed me unmercifully because 
I said, after the first heat, that it made me sick. 



214 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

Fred Harmon said it was noble sport, and if I'd 
only stay till 1 got used to it, I'd enjoy it hugely. 
I told him I might be able to stay at a bull fight 
until the arena looked like a Chicago slaughter 
house, but I didn't believe that I'd ever get old 
enough, or experienced enough, or cultured enough, 
in this world, not to retain a prejudice against 
seeing grown men beat the brains out of babies 
just for the fun of hearing the babies yell, and 
witnessing the anguish of the mothers. Now, Har- 
mon looks on me as a cad, because I talk that way. 
He thinks it is a lack of culture that it is crude. 
Well, maybe it is ; but somehow I've got a preju- 
dice against getting my manhood all cultured out 
of me. Whenever I get so refined and exquisite 
and polished that the terror and suffering of any 
living thing affords me amusement, I hope to God, 
doctor, that you, or some other good friend, will 
have me put in a madhouse, or give me a dose 
of cold lead. I'm pretty low, I know, and my 
tastes are not at all fashionable, but I'd rather be 
out of the swim than deliberately to cultivate the 
tiger within me, or rather the jackal, for it is that 
noble animal, I believe, that depends on the help- 
lessness of its prey for success." 

I was glad that he had taken this channel of 
conversation to relieve his pent-up feelings, and I 
had led him on and on, farther and farther from 
the subject of his recent confession, and had begun 



Is this your /Son, my Lord? 215 

to congratulate myself upon the success of my 
plan to divert him, and so gain time, when he 
suddenly turned to me : 

" Well, doctor, haven't you made up your mind 
what to say yet ? I'm about talked out. I've been 
running emptyings, as they say in the maple sugar 
camps, for the last half hour, to give you a chance 
to grapple with my charming little story in all its 
bearings ; but I see you're a trifle short yet in the 
matter of congratulations. Well, I'll come again. 
This is your office hour. Good-bye." 

" I would rather think it over, Preston, before I 
say much to you. Come in to-morrow at the same 
hour. I shall be alone." 

"All right," said he, and passed out. He had 
not reached the hall door before he turned and re- 
entered my office. He came straight up to me and 
took my hand. 

" Don't worry over me, doctor," he said. "Hell 
is full of my kind, and I'll only be one more." 

He dropped my hand as suddenly as he had taken 
it, and was gone before I could utter a word. 

" Poor Preston," I said to myself, " what can I 
say to you to-morrow ? " 



216 Is this your Son, my Lord? 



CHAPTER XIII. 

"Knowing at last the unstudied gesture of esteem, the reverent eyes 
made rich with honest thought, and holding high above all other things 
high as hope's great throbbing star above the darkness of the dead the 
love of wife and child and friend." Robert G. Ingersoll. 

" Now what could artless Jeanle do ? 

She had nae will to say him na; 
At length she blush'd a sweet consent. 
And love was ay between them twa." 

Robert Burns. 

When Maude Stone received no reply to her 
note of final dismissal, addressed to Mr. Fred Har- 
mon in Chicago, she at first grieved a little, then 
feared that he might not have received it. At last 
when six months had passed, she confided this fear 
to her father. He assured her that her note had been 
received and receipted for by Mr. Fred Harmon 
himself ; for Mr. Stone had taken the precaution to 
send it registered. 

" How did you ever happen to think of that, 
papa?" asked Maude, in astonishment. 

Tier father drew her down upon his knee, and 
pushing the light curls back about her fine forehead 
in the ugly way that the best intentioned men usually 
manage to achieve when handling a woman's hair, 
said softly : 

" I thought I knew Fred Harmon, daughter. I 
did not believe that he would reply, and I meant 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 217 

that you should have no doubts about his having 
received the note. Here is the post-office receipt." 
He took the worn paper out of his pocket and 
placed it in her hand; then he pushed the curls 
back from her face again. He noticed that a sud- 
den dampness covered her brow, and he mistook 
its meaning. Her hand trembled a little, then she 
deliberately tore the paper into bits, laid her head 
on his shoulder, and put one soft little palm against 
his cheek, pushing his face down on her own. 
They were silent for a long time, when Maude said 
softly : 

" You blessed old papa, I wonder if any other 
girl ever had such a wise, loving friend." 

Mr. Stone rubbed his smooth cheek gently up 
and down on the velvet one of his daughter, but 
said nothing. It was dark in the heavily curtained 
library, and Mr. Stone rocked back and forth with 
the girl as if she were still a child. 

" If I could make my little girl happy," he said 
presently, " if I only could defend her against her 
own generous, loving heart, I would be content; 
but " he sighed and pressed her closer to ,him. 

She freed herself so that she could sit upright, 
and taking his face in her hands looked steadily, 
unflinchingly into his eyes. The light had faded 
so that only the outlines of their faces were clear 
to each other ; but her great, fine eyes looked lu- 
minous and clear. 



11 8 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

" Papa," she said slowly, " you have defended me 
against my own heart. You have made me see 
clearly in Fred, what I had always blamed myself 
for catching glimpses* of at times. I could not be 
happy with a man who was not true to himself 
as well as to me. I could not long love a man 
who had no basis of character that was his own 
his very own. Fred was so different from any 
one I knew. He was so nice on the surface, 
and at first I did not dream that it was not real. 
I admired him, and thought I loved him ; but I 
believe now that I never did. You are so real, 
so genuine ; Uncle Ball is, and and " she was 
going to say Harvey, but she did not. " Perhaps 
I was old enough to have known that all men are 
not to be measured by you ; but I think I have 
always done that> and I never knew how 
terribly short of good weight a man can come when 
brought to that test, until that awful night of the 
Military Ball, nearly a year ago ndw, popsie. Did 
you know that it was so long as that ? Since then, 
papa, I think nothing on this earth could have made 
me want to marry Fred. I felt so ashamed for him 
that night as I measured him by you, and and 
saw that he was not even capable of recognizing the 
disparity. Such differences as he saw he very 
clearly thought were to his advantage." 

Mr. Stone's hands clasped themselves back of 
the girl's waist. She was stroking his cheeks now 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 219 

as if he were the one to be shielded and dealt 
gently with. Presently she went on steadily but 
in a low tone : 

"I am not at all a broken-hearted girl, papa. 
Don't worry about me. I am I shall be it 
was a great revelation to me. I feel years and 
years older ; oh, ever so many years older, and as 
if I had come through a very great change; but 
I am not unhappy as you fear, and as I would 
have expected to be as I would surely .have 
been if I had really loved him, papa. It just 
seems to me all the while now as if some one a 
friend or neighbor had died, and I have to keep 
quiet and step softly, and and not laugh very 
much or very often." 

Her father groaned a little, and kissed her hand 
as it came near his lips. He liked her to laugh 
very often indeed. 

" But truly, papa, I am not it just seems as if 
< each morning now when I wake up I have to 
try to think what it is that presses upon my spirits, 
and just what it is that I have lost. And truly, 
papa, I do not believe that it is my happiness. I 
know that it is not that ; but only my confidence 
in and ignorance of of other kinds of men. 
I was very young, you know, last year, very young 
indeed, for my age." 

Her father snatched her to his heart again and 
a half sob escaped him. She was quite still for a 



220 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

time, and then said softly : " I am not so young a 
girl now, papa, but that it is time I should learn one 
of the hard lessons of life. All women must, I sup- 
pose, and as to men - - how could you have read 
Fred as you did, if you had not learned long ago 
to measure, and sift, and distrust people? I wish 
we did not have to do it. I wish we could take 
what people seem to be for what they are and not 
be cheated ; but if we cannot, papa mine, is it not 
time that your great, big girl should know it?" 

She was trying to cheer him up now by her old 
ways and tones. " Why, you see, popsie, I am get- 
ting pretty old not exactly gray and toothless, " 
she said laughingly, and her fine teeth gleamed out 
for a moment ; "but quite old enough, for all that, 
and I ought to be more experienced and wise. You 
have told me yourself that nothing teaches one like 
sorrow. I never understood it until now. It is 
true, and in spite of all, I guess it was a lesson I 
needed pretty badly. I was too childish and too 
happy. Even love did not mean what it ought to 
have meant. It dii not go deep enough and 
then I was very thoughtless of other people." 

"You were never that, daughter," said her 
father ; " you were always thinking of others. " 

" Oh yes," she broke in, " perhaps I was as to 
whether they had this or that to eat or to wear ; 
but I never thought much about whether they them- 
selves were, or only seemed to be. In spite of the 



7s this your Son, my Lord? 221 

pain, I am glad I had that lesson, for your sake, 
papa, if for nothing else. I never half appre- 
ciated you before, and some other men like 
Uncle Ball." 

Her father had both her hands in one of his now, 
and he was holding them to his lips just where 
the inside of the round little wrists came close 
together. " All the knowledge I had was just 
pitched helter-skelter into my brain. I've been 
making out a sort of table of contents from time to 
time this past year. I've tried to stop long enough 
to let the sediment settle. I used to suppose most 
people had parents like mine. Poor Fred! What 
a training, what weak examples, what soulless 
friends he must have had ! How much he has lost 
and and how much I have to be glad about." 
She sat up suddenly and laughed. " I am happy 
to have made your acquaintance," she said mock- 
ingly. "That expression always amused me so 
when I have heard people use it; but, papa, I am 
glad to have made your acquaintance, and I never 
knew you before until this last year." 

" John ! " called out Mrs. Stoae, pushing aside 
the portiere and stepping into the room. " John ! " 

Maude put her hand over her father's lips, and 
they remained silent in the darkness. 

" Maude, Maud-i-e ! I don't know where they 
are. They are sure to be together concocting 
some mystery. Maud-i-e ! " 



222 7s this your /Son, my .Lord? 

Mrs. Stone had dropped the portiere, and was 
going down the hall again when Maude's clear 
laugh rang out. 

" "What-e-e ? " She called after her mother. 
" The two old hardened conspirators are here in 
the dark, mama-chen. What is wanted of them? 
They are a bad lot. Come in gingerly Wah ! 
go slow there ! " And the girl laughed again as 
the sound reached her of some one in the darkness 
walking against a chair. 

" Stand still now and wait until I whistle, and 
then you follow the whis, mama-chen. Now 
wh e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e ! We're both over here. 
Wh e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e ! " She whistled again. 
"Where the head conspirator is, there will the 
small fry be found also. Selah ! " 

" I am not mama-chen, but I have found you 
by your whis, as you call it, and by her conniv- 
ance," said Harvey Ball ; " and now it is her turn, 
and mine, to laugh." 

Mrs. Stone's merry voice called out from the 
drapery, she was always very happy to hear Maude 
talk in her old, flippant, rollicking way, "Ah, ha, 
Miss, you are not the only one to play tricks in the 
dark. But for goodness' sake, light the gas, John. 
Harvey's father is out here. No, he has gone in 
search of you. He is out in the dining room," and 
Mrs. Stone started to join their old friend, and to 
say that her husband would be out at once. 



_7s this your Son, my Lord? 223 

Maude sprang to her feet and was on the other 
side of her father in a flash, with a hand on each 
of his shoulders, when Harvey Ball's voice had 
made known his presence. He was so near now 
that he could see the outline of the two figures. 
He put one hand on John Stone's shoulder and 
under it he felt the warm soft hand of the girl. It 
sent a thrill of almost painful pleasure through his 
veins. It was a good omen he thought and she 
did not take her hand away. He was not sure but 
she had a vague idea that if she let it lie perfectly 
still he would not know that it was there and 
would remove his own. He wondered if he dared 
close his fingers over it. Would she be angry ? It 
seemed strange to think of it in that way. Maude's 
hand had lain in his a thousand times in the past ; 
but dared he lo take it up now ? He pressed a 
little more firmly so that it could not slip out, but 
he did not close his fingers. 

" Well, between you two youngsters I do not see 
how I am going to get up ;" said Mr. Stone, resign- 
edly. " Maude is holding me down on one side 
and you on the other. But such is life. The old 
folks have to take a seat and give the floor to the 
rising generation. When did you come home, 
Harvey?" 

He made a pretence of sinking hopelessly into 
the chair. The movement lowered his shoulder 
so that Harvey's fingers slipped naturally under 



224 Is this your Son, my Lordf 

Maude's hand, and still she made no effort to draw- 
it away. Harvey forgot the object of his visit. 
He forgot the sore heart with which he had started 
from home to see his old friend John Stone, to tell 
him about the new fear that had come into his 
life the fear to be open and frank, and truthful 
at home. 

His heart beat wildly, for surely, surely, Maude's 
silent acquiescence meant something for him. Not 
long ago she would have slyly pinched his fingers 
or openly made comment on the situation, claiming 
to be a prisoner in common with her father ; but 
now 

" What will you give us to let you up ? " she 
asked her father. 

" Us ! " Harvey pressed her hand a little more 
firmly ; but kept the weight of his own upon her 
father's shoulder. Maude bore down a trifle more 
heavily on the other side and made elaborate pre- 
tense to be so occupied there that she was wholly 
unaware of the location of the hand that Har- 
vey held. The young fellow wondered if she 
could be unconscious of it, and his heart sank ; but 
he could not believe it. It was not like Maude. 
She would have noticed. She was keeping a secret 
with him. Her heart was beating like his, too! 
It was almost too delicious to believe, but 

She had put the side of her face down by her 
father's and asked again : " What will you give if 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 225 

we let you up?" She rubbed her soft cheek 
against his, but that other hand still lay in Har- 
vey's and it was deliciously flexible and warm. 

" Give ? " blustered Mr. Stone ; " give ? why I won't 
give anything. I do not propose to buy or beg 
my liberty. I believe in a man taking what he 
wants in this world, especially if it belongs to him by 
rights," and he suddenly shook his great frame free 
and stood up ; but in the general movement, Harvey 
had carried Maude's hand to his lips, and pressed 
it there one long, rapturous moment. Did she 
know ? She did not say a word to indicate it, if 
she did. Was she so merrily occupied in this little 
contest with her father, that even that eager kiss 
had not made her sure of a hidden meaning in 
their clasped hands ? Harvey did not believe it, and 
when he dropped her hand, his heart was singing 
a new song, and he could not struggle back to the 
unhappiness that had brought him there to-night. It 
had all taken such a little while, and yet how every- 
thing was changed ! Why did any one want to go 
to a lighter room? This one was brilliant. 

" Can't we stay here and not have a light ? " 
Harvey asked, and his voice trembled with happi- 
ness. " I like to sit in the dark. The moonlight 
is enough. It is getting in here now, see?" And 
stepping to the window he held back the drapery. 

" There is Lyra," Maud said, from the window. 
"Do you know, I like Lyra best of all the constella- 



226 Is- this your Son, my Lordf 

tions. Why? Oh, I do not know, only I do. I 
always look for her when I am at the window, or 
if I am outdoors at night. I always think of her 
as mine." 

" I'll go and get a match to light this gas, and 
bring your father back with me, Harvey," said 
John Stone. " I must say it is a little dark for my 
eyes, but I suppose you children can read almost 
anything by the light of the moon, or Lyra, hey, 
Maude ?" And her father slipped out from behind 
the curtain where she had dragged him to investi- 
gate her favorite constellation. Harvey's heart 
gave a wild leap. Could he, dared he, leave his 
window and go to where she stood ? Would she 
care ? Would he have time before her father came 
back ? Was her heart as wildly, as madly ecstatic 
as his own ? Had his any reason ? 

"Harvey?" said a soft voice beside him. He 
turned, and the moonlight fell full on the upturned 
face and shining eyes of Maude. She was holding 
the heavy curtains back with both upstretched 
arms, and the soft folds of her gown almost touched 
him. 

" Maude, my darling ! " and their lips met in a 
long, eager kiss. 

" Oh, I love you, I love you, I love you!" burst 
from the girl's lips, and her arms clung about his 
neck. " I love you, Harvey, I love you ! " There 
were happy tears in her eyes. 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 227 

Harvey was beyond speech. He pressed her to 
his breast in a transport, and kissed her eyes, her 
hair, her lips, her throat. There was a long silence. 
Then a great sob broke from his lips and he un- 
clasped her hands from his neck, and suddenly sank 
at her feet. 

" Oh, my God, Maude, darling, do not touch me 
again not just now or I shall go mad with joy. 
Darling, darling, darling, you love me ! " - 

She took his hands from his face and kissed them 
madly their palms and wrists and holding one 
against her neck, she drew him up to the window 
seat beside her, and taking his head against her 
bosom, murmured softly, "Dear boy, dear boy, 
dear boy, are you as happy as I ? " 

No words, no thoughts, would come to either of 
these young hearts, stirred for the first time to 
their depths, where the birth of love's rapture 
had crowded all else out. Endearing names, 
soft tones, cooing inflections, murmured inarticu- 
late caresses made speech a useless thing. Their 
hearts understood, and sang with a joy that was 
pain and rapture, that deadened all capacity to 
think. 

" Kiss my other eye ; it feels so lonely," she 
said presently. " You have kissed that one three 
times, and the other one loves you too." 

Harvey broke into a rapturous laugh, and with 
his lips against the neglected orb whispered : 



228 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

" It loves me too, the precious, beautiful darling. 
Did I neglect it ? " and he made that inarticulate, 
consolatory sound in his throat that mothers and 
lovers use when words will not express the strug- 
gling emotions of the heart. Maude laughed a 
happy little peal. 

" Oh, oh, oh, don't put it out ! I shall need it 
to look at you. I could not see enough of you 
with only one. There there oh, don't put 
the other one out too ! I never dreamed that one 
could be so happy and live. I, who have known 
so little except happiness, have never seen its face 
before ! " 

Then standing with his face between her palms 
she said softly, reverently : 

" My darling ! " She closed her eyes as if to shut 
out all the world, but the one thought, and sight, 
and touch. 

" My darling, oh, my darling ! " 

"Mau-die! Mau-die ! Har-vie! Where are those 
children ? Mau-die ! " called Mrs. Stone, from the 
doorway. " They are not here, Mr. Ball. I guess 
they have gone out for a walk. I must say it is a 
splendid night. Almost too fine to be in doors. 
Don't go. They will be back soon I am sure, 
and Harvey won't know what to make of your 
leaving so early and without him." 

But old Mr. Ball was restless and unhappy. He 
wanted to be with his son again and yet he dreaded 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 229 

it. He wondered if he could take down the 
barriers between them. He had confided his 
trouble to John Stone, and John had taken Har- 
vey's side of course. " But Harvey won't hold any 
ill-will about it, Edward," he had said. " He will 
understand." 

" Understand, yes," said the old man forlornly, 
"but can he forget? It must look to him as if I 
had deliberately tried to bully him into saying one 
thing when he thought another. I'm afraid John, 
I have thrown away the best pearl on the string, to 
make room for a conch- shell sound, not value. 
I've been a pitiful old fool. It is not a question as to 
whether Harvey would hold malice, or whether he 
will want to feel estranged, and as if there was a 
barrier between us of course he won't want to 
but can he help it, now ? That is the question. 
And can I ? What did I do it for ? I can't see 
now myself. I did feel as if I must warn him and 
check him ; but I cannot see for the life of me now 
what put it into my head. He is good. That is 
what I want. He is honest. That is what I want. 
Well, what in G'od's name was I after any way? 
What did I want him to do or say ? " 

"You wanted his honest opinion, Edward," said 
John Stone, with a twinkle in his eye, "but with 
the usual consistency of the theological devotee you 
wanted him to be just honest enough to hide his 
doubts, if he had any, and make his opinions fit the 



230 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

prevailing fashion, or you would know the reason 
why." 

"John ! " said Mrs. Stone, reprovingly. 

Her husband laughed. He took hold of his old 
friend's overcoat, and held it up for him to put on. 

"Taken all in all, Edward, you are the least 
tyrannical of believers and the most reasonable 
of those who reject reason as their guide. Jf you 
had not been born with a certain belief in your 
veins, you would talk just as Harvey does to-day. 
But in the day when you were born, faith, belief, 
dogma was born in people. Their mothers had no 
doubts at all, and their fathers kept such as they 
may have had, to themselves. It was a good deal 
safer to do it, in those good old days," he added 
dryly. " Well, it is different now. In fact it is 
exactly turned round. The mothers doubt and 
keep quiet for the most part, and the fathers disbe- 
lieve and speak out. The birthmark is no longer 
faith ; it is doubt, more or less open. It is agnosti- 
cism plain or on the half-shell that is about the 
size of it these days. Well, Harvey takes his 
straight. So do I. The Broad-churchmen and 
Christian Evolutionists serve theirs with a dash of 
Judaism, a pinch of Paulinism, a hint of Buddhism, 
and now and then a thimbleful of good, old-fash- 
ioned orthodox Christianity ; but the latter variety 
is served to country customers only, and the man 
who passes it sprays himself afterward with more 



Js this your Son, my Lord? 231 

or less Ethical Culture and Nineteenth Century 
Platonism." lie laughed and slapped Mr. Ball on 
the back with a sounding whack that raised a little 
dust. 

"Why, Edward, you say yourself that you do 
not know anything about any other life than this; 
you say yourself, that you would not like to swear 
to there being another world ; you admit that you 
are not at all sure that a prayer was ever answered, 
in any theological sense. You confess that the 
only kind of beings you personally know anything 
about are residents of this world ; well, that is the 
whole field. You are an agnostic, but you do not 
know it. You have certain little frills and bows 
that you tack on in the shape of church attendance 
and forms of expression; but when it comes to 
real, solid facts, you do not pretend to go one step 
farther than I do. Well, Harvey stands right 
where you do, in point of fact, only he takes a 
calm outlook, plants his feet and takes the con- 
sequences of his premises. He does not try to eat 
his jam and keep it, too, and when it is all gone, does 
not put the cover on the dish and try to make other 
folks believe that it is full. Now the 'reconcilers' 
do just that. They give away their whole case, and 
then they vow they have got it, only it is covered up. 
Beecher did that. Heber Newton does it, and so 
does Phillips Brooks and Dr. Thomas and all those 
progressive fellows over at Andover. 



232 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

" Why, great Scott, Edward, when they lay 
down their premises, argue their case and then 
begin to draw their conclusions, it is enough to 
make a dog laugh. Their premises and conclusions 
are not even blood relations ; " and John Stone 
chuckled over his comparison. " If you believe 
Avithout a doubt, the story of the creation, the 
Garden of Eden legend, the snake tale, which is 
necessary to the fall of man, and the * In Adam 
all men died ' theory ; if you accept the possi- 
bility of vicarious atonement, and can think it not 
a vicious idea; if you believe Christ was a God 
and had no human father, and that his death could 
in any way relieve you of your own responsibility, 
or make an All- wise God change his mind about 
damning you ; if you are sure of such a God, such 
a creation, such a temptation, such a fall, such a 
Christ, such an atonement, and that it could have 
the results claimed, then you are able to argue 
with some show of consistency. But drop one 
single link, admit one single doubt or question, 
and you are gone. Your whole system is worthless. 
The Catholics are the only consistent Christians. 
They do not try to use both faith and reason. 
They scout reason altogether, and they are right, 
unless you let it have full sway. The old-time 
Protestants and there are precious few of them 
left tried to take three parts faith and one part 
reason, but it did not stop there. It could not. 



Js this your /Son, my Lord? 233 

The Catholic Church understood that perfectly. 
To-day, the Broad-churchman and ' reconciler ' ele- 
ment those who 'reconcile' science and religion, 
or evolution and creation try to work it with one 
part faith and three parts reason ; but it is fatal to 
both. The result is that it is boiled down to just 
this Rome or Reason. Now, you would make a 
pretty Catholic, wouldn't you ? " And he laughed 
jovially. 

" John," again remonstrated his wife, " you are 
such a tease. Let Uncle Ball go in peace if he 
will not stay any longer. I wonder where those 
children are? Maudi-e-e!" 



234 Is this your Son, my Lordf 



CHAPTER XIV. 

" You never need think you can turn over any old falsehood, without a 
terrible squirming and scattering of the horrid little population that 
dwells under It. Every real thought on every real subject knocks the 
wind out of somebody or other." Oliver Wendell Holmes. 

When Mr. Fred Harmon returned to Boston from 
his prolonged Western tour an incident of which 
was his unfortunate "call" of a plethoric jack- 
pot when his opponent happened to hold a straight 
flush, and his subsequent six weeks' " hibernation " 
at the home of Preston Mansfield he was the lion 
of the season. It was pretty generally understood 
that this heroic young man had come through a 
number of hair-breadth escapes, matrimonially 
speaking, in which scheming Western mothers and 
Indian hunting, crack-shot frontier fathers had 
figured somewhat actively. 

, There was very little doubt in the minds of his 
admirers that nothing short of his phenomenal 
finesse and aplomb could ever have brought him 
safely back to them, unaccompanied by a follow- 
ing and a household, who would have spread 
dismay on Beacon street, and carried ruin to the 
very base of Bunker Hill. But an overruling Prov- 
idence had saved the scion of culture, and con- 
founded the Philistines. Fred Harmon was back 
again, was matrimonially free, and was seriously 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 235 

considering once more whether he would bestow 
the favor of his society and the wealth of his 
accomplishments and abilities upon the Almighty, 
or whether he would endow some other profession 
than that of theology with his exceptional genius. 
It was argued that the great divine who cast a 
lustre over Boston could not live always. He was 
not so young as he once had been, and who was 
to fill his place? Who could? No living man, 
now known to fame, would be tolerated by those 
who had been blest for years by his ministrations. 
Who else could lull their restless thoughts and 
questioning minds by so deliciously musical a voice, 
such intrepidity of tongue and facility of utterance ? 
Who else could command language so graceful and 
ornate, that no break need be felt between the 
intonations of the sermon, the service, and the 
song? 

In Fred Harmon there was hope; but if he 
failed them, where was Boston to turn, when the 
awful day should come and the place that knew 
its idol should know him no more forever ? Serious 
as the question was, fatal as would be the result if 
he failed them, it is nevertheless true, that Fred 
still felt that it was an open question whether he 
would better sacrifice himself on this altar of duty 
and worship, or whether he would not do well to 
continue to temper poker with the prayer book and 
revive the traditions of Daniel Webster while he 



236 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

eclipsed that gentlemen's fame in oratory and law 
and statesmanship. But this latter involved a 
somewhat longer purse than was at the young man's 
command. He figured that it would take as much 
as two years, after he should be admitted to the 
bar, before he could hope to be in a commanding 
financial position. Five years might elapse before 
his fame would be world- wide ; and five years is 
a long look ahead to a genius of twenty-four. 

In the ministry it would be different. He would 
not have to compete directly. His jury would be 
all on his side beforehand. If his pleadings were 
badly drawn, or if his arguments were faulty, 
there would be no opposing counsel at his elbow 
to take advantage of his blunder. His finances 
would not depend on his winning the case; but 
only on pleasing the taste of those who were 
already of his way of thinking. And while Mr. 
Fred Harmon had a very elastic and expansive 
opinion of his own abilities, still he did not lose 
sight of the fact that nowhere else on earth was 
mediocrity so safe from criticism and comparison 
of a discomposing order and proximity as in 
a calling where the line of argument is all laid 
out beforehand, and all parties concerned have 
previously accepted the conclusions which are to be 
drawn. There were times, therefore, when Mr. 
Fred Harmon felt that the security and ease and 
certainty of such a position would compensate for 



Is this your /Son, my Lord? 237 

a good deal. So the scales balanced back and 
forth, and Beacon Street trembled. 

Fred's mother was ecstatically terrified. She 
would have been extremely happy to see the young 
man burst upon a dazzled nation as a statesman, 
whose voice should drown the memory of a Wash- 
ington, a Webster, and a Lincoln ; tut in these days, 
politics were somewhat vulgar, and he would be 
thrown with men of well, to put it mildly, an 
inferior order. They would not be able to appre- 
ciate him, and, indeed, she doubted very much if 
anybody could, outside of Boston. 

But in the church ! Ah, how delightful it would 
be to see him wield the power and receive the wor- 
ship of all those cultured souls ; and then the re- 
flected glory that would fall upon her that, too, 
was a delicious anticipation. What a vast deal of 
good he would do, this lovely son of hers, with 
his exquisitely fine nature. How he would exalt 
the people. How he would free them from all lin- 
gering traces of Philistinism. How he would spirit- 
ualize and decorate and beautify their religion. 
How the touch of his fancy, the sheen of his taste, 
would tone down and glorify orthodox creeds. 
How he would read new meanings into them and 
read the last remnants of the old meanings out. 
Mrs. Harmon had two friends who were Unitari- 
ans, and she felt sure when Fred should wear 
the surplice and stole, these dear ones would be 



238 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

redeemed too. They had once told her that they 
could look upon the ceremony of communion with 
nothing short of horror. 

" If you really believe that it is the body and 
blood of Christ, why do you eat and drink it, dear ? " 
one of them had asked. " It seems to me horrible, 
beyond words to express. I can see how you might 
want to take it home and keep it as a sacred thing 
but eat it ; " and she held her hands up in token 
of abhorrence. 

" How literal you are," Fred's mother had 
replied. " You take all the poetry, and spiritual 
meaning, and lofty ethical significance out of a 
beautiful and holy service, and then yoii hold it to 
account for your own lack of sympathy with its 
deeper meaning. Of course one would not want 
to eat the body, and drink the blood of a dead 
man, or a dead god, as you say. Even more 
truly would one shudder to do so, if one had loved 
or revered the lost ; but 

" Then why do you say that you do it ? Why 
do you go through the form which you admit 
would be abhorrent, if it were not wholly form, 
if it were fact ? Have words absolutely no par 
value in your creeds ? Why do you not say what 
you mean ? In other matters you are hypercritical 
as to mere shades of difference in your use of 
words. So is your clergyman ; but he says, * This 
is the body and the blood of Christ.' Now, if ha 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 289 

does not mean that, why does he say it ? and what 
does he mean ? What are words for in theology ? 
If he means that it is a symbol of that, why does 
he not say so ? And why eat it even then ? Why 
eat a symbol of the flesh and blood of the dead? 
No, no, my dear, you cannot make it appear to me 
either honest to call a thing by one name, and 
mean that it is a totally different thing, nor can 
you convince me that it is elevating to teach 
people even to say, in a Pickwickian sense, that 
they eat dead gods or men. It is shocking, be- 
yond words to express, and when explained away 
from its original literal meaning, which the Cath- 
olics still insist upon, it adds dishonesty as well. 
The Catholics, at least, are honest. They mean 
what they say. However I may object to the 
meaning, I respect their sincerity. When they 
say ' this is so and so,' they don't turn around and 
explain it away, and finally end up by declaring 
that it is something totally different. They have 
the courage and mental integrity of their convic- 
tions. When they tell their devotees to believe 
that a certain relic is a piece of the true cross, they 
don't add, * that is to say, it is made of a tree that 
once stood in the same forest from which the wood 
for the true cross was obtained ; or, if you prefer 
to look at it another way, we will allow you to 
believe it in this form : It was cut in another 
country altogether; but it happened to fall with 



240 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

its top pointing eastward, which, taken in its true 
spiritual sense, amounts to exactly the same thing.' 
Oh, no, they don't trim their requirements to catch 
the ethical agnosticism of the day. They, at least, 
are honest, direct, and firm in their demands on 
absolute faith ; and mental reservations that reserve 
the whole fabric, are not accepted by them. No, no, 
my dear, if I should ever accept any of it, I should 
have to accept it all, absolutely, without mental 
reservation, evasion, or lapse, and then I would not 
join a Protestant church. I should go to the 
cathedral at once and finally." 

Mrs. Harmon had given her friend up for the 
time ; but when Fred should present the case, 
when he should stand before them in all his vest- 
ments, and clothe in prismatic tints the bald facts 
and undraped creeds of Protestant orthodoxy, as 
elaborated and refined by the ethical leaders of the 
Broad Church ; when her gifted son should once 
vitalize the exquisite statue of revealed religion, 
Beacon Street, as one man, would become Pygma- 
lions and the divine Galatea would have, not only 
the old lovers at her feet, but even these devotees 
of the King's Chapel should be lured by her incom- 
parable charms. Not a night, not a day passed that 
she did not pray, long and fervently, to a god 
(which in conversation she translated into a Great 
First Cause) to bring about this transcendent bless- 
ing through her wonderful boy, and for the sake 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 241 

of Jesus Christ her Saviour whom she sometimes 
admitted she believed to be the son of a carpen- 
ter in Nazareth. 

" In which case, why do you ask for things in his 
name and for his sake ? " a sceptical friend had 
asked. " Why do you call him your Saviour ? 
Do you not think that any explanation on that 
basis makes your petition, in his name and for 
his sake, quite meaningless and absurd?" But 
Fred's mother had laughed the question aside and 
insisted that no one could talk seriously with such 
an absurdly literal person. 

" You have no spirituality, dear," she had said., 
" Why, it is just as natural to me to go to Christ 
for help in the things of to-day, as if he were in the 
next room, and yet when you pin me down in that 
energetic fashion, of course I believe that he was 
the son of Joseph, and that he is dead in the same 
sense that all of us are, or will be dead ; but really 
dear, if you will excuse me for saying so, I fail 
to see what that has to do with it." Indeed, 
Mrs. Harmon had no more doubt that when her 
gifted son should explain the plan of salvation 
to these sceptical friends they would thenceforth 
believe in its efficacy, than had that unfortunate 
young gentleman in the sufficiency of a " king full " 
when stakes were heavy and luck his way. " The 
Rector was explaining just that point to Fred the 
other day," she had said ; " I wish you could have 



242 Js this your Son,, my Lord? 

heard him. It was beautiful. He told Fred that 
a literal belief that Christ was a god and had no 
human father or that he arose from the dead 
in any material sense in any sense that all the 
dead are not arisen is not at all vital. He does 
not accept that view, and he explained to Fred 
that it was quite unnecessary and Fred saw it 
clearly. I did, too, but you know I am such a 
poor sieve of a creature. It all slipped through 
my mind. I cannot make it clear to you now ; 
but it was like crystal as they talked it, and dear 
Fred " and here Mrs Harmon's eyes filled with 
tears as she took her friend's hand. " You must 
not breathe it, dear, not just yet but my 
boy has promised to take holy orders ! Oh, my 
heart is so full of joy and thankfulness to God 
that I cannot talk, and yet I could not keep it from 
you a moment longer. It is settled ! I am to 
give my talented son to the service of the Church. 
There are far more brilliant and showy, and 
(from a personal and selfish outlook) advantageous 
positions open to such as he, I know ; but think 
of the blessedness of devoting one's whole life to 
others under the direct hand and will of Almighty 
God ! " Her friend wondered vaguely how an 
impersonal Great First Cause was going to give 
special directions to Mr. Fred Harmon, of Boston, 
U. S. A.; but she said nothing and only smiled 
inwardly a little. 



Js this your Son, my Lord? 243 

" I am so happy, so happy, so happy ! I pray 
that I may keep my reason ! " continued Fred's 
mother, covering her face with her dainty lace 
handkerchief. When her friend withdrew, she 
sank softly by her couch and prayed long and fer- 
vently. As she knelt she had noticed that the 
pillow sham on the opposite side of the bed had 
slipped a trifle from its place. When she arose she 
rang for her maid. 

" Mary, you are getting more and more careless 
about your duties. I shall be compelled to dismiss 
you, if you are not able to do better. That sham 
disturbed me at my devotions. It is far from 
straight." 

" Yis, mum," said Mary humbly, " they is thet 
slick, mum 

" Never mind explaining, Mary. How often 
have I told you that a servant's place is to keep 
such perfect order that explanations are unneces- 
sary ? Whenever a servant has to tell why a thing 
is not right, that is proof enough that it is wrong, 
and the apology comes too late. The only apology 
I accept from my servants is such perfect attention 
to their duties, that apologies are rendered un- 
necessary. This is a warning, Mary. Do not let 
it occur again." 

" Yis, mum," said Mary, somewhat irrelevantly, 
and forthwith departed to readjust the offending 
sham. 



244 Is this your /Son, my Lord? 

" Oupoligy," said she, as soon as the door was 
closed, "Ouppligy, indade! an' mesilf havin' no 
toim to so much as listhen to me b'y, Tummus, ex- 
hplainin' the purtictive turruff to thim shtupid 
ghrocery men ! Uv curse, Oi'v got no immegit 
inthrust in pollythicks, mesilf bein' a lady but 
Oi'd loik to know if it ishent every mother's juthy 
to incourahg her b'y to thake an inthrest in publick 
affairhs? An' ish'ent Tummus good fer the School 
Boarhd if he wance gits elechted this toim anto the 
commithee av elechtion inspechtors?" And the 
proud mother of Thomas, the prospective election 
inspector, re-arranged the couch of the proud 
mother of Frederick, the prospective divine, each 
feeling that her duty lay in sinking her individual- 
ity, and scheming for sons who accepted it as the 
natural and merited homage paid to exceptional 
ability by those who should keenly feel the reflected 
honor of the close relationship. 

When Mary returned to the dining-room, she 
found her son far along in his address. As she 
entered the door, however, she was privileged to 
hear his closing, eloquent remarks : 

"And thet is the raashon Oi so perthiculerly 
want ye both t' cahst yep franchoises fer Misther 
Blaine. Oi want the mon best calcu/athed to per- 
tect the turruff agin thim low Oitalians a-comin' 
ovher here an' ruhinin' the ontoir counthry at the 
behist av Aingland bad 'cess t' her I " 



Js this your /Son, my Lord? 245 

"What air they a-goin' t' do to the tur-ruff, 
Tummus ? " inquired his admiring mother, from her 
place by the door. 

" Chyart it all aff, av course," responded the ready 
politician, promptly scowling upon her feminine 
incapacity to grasp a question so comprehensive as 
that of the protective tariff. 

" The murtherin scoundrels ! " exclaimed she, and 
the three prospective voters scowled fiercely out of 
the window at an organ-grinder, and Thomas 
went on. 

"You musthent interrhupt a politichal spaach," 
said he, addressing the disturbing element by the 
door. " You'll git me thet nervhous thet Oi sha'n't 
be able to egsplahin the pints; but what Oi do 
know ish this ; thim thet knows do say thet af the 
tur-ruff ish nat purthected they'll chayart the whole 
av it aff to build ap the tur-ruff av Aingland thet 
ish almost tothally disthroied already. Ahn Oi 
say, be jabbers, let them build ap their own tur-ruff 
with their own sod, and nat be afther a rhuinin 
the looks av Americka by a cayartin aff hern. 
Americky fer the Americans, sez Oi, und Oi'll foit 
to purtect her sod again a aignerent furren poperla- 
tion ! " 

Mary's enthusiasm became so great at this point, 
that she forgot her warning and applauded loudly. 
" Och, but you're the beautiful polithical spaakher, 
Tummus," said she. " An' so thet is what all this 



246 Is (Ms your Son, my Lord? 

thalk about the tur-ruff is ovher, is it? Well, if 
they're short av sod, sez Oi, let 'em thake some an 
welcum. It'll ghrow agin an' Oi'd jist loik t' 
show um thet Ameriky hev plenthy an' to shpare." 

" Dhry up ! " said Thomas, who saw signs of 
defection in his two recent converts. 

" Dhry up ! phwat do a woman know abhout 
polly ticks? They air nat well enough inforhmed 
an the thopics av the toims, to imdhersthand 
pwhat we leadhers air thalkin' about, much less the 
mainin' av it ; and an intilligent vother, that's got 
any sinse at all, won't so much as listhen to wan 
av ye gabble. Here, help shpread this thable- 
cloth an' kape shtill ! " 

The butcher's boy and the grocer's clerk with- 
drew to ponder over the tariff, and to deliver their 
wares next door. 



Is this your Son^ my Lord? 247 



CHAPTER XV. 

" But, Lady Clare Vere de Vere, 

Tou make your wares by far too cheap; 
Tour net claims all as fish that comes 

Within the limit of its sweep. 
You sit beside me here to-day; 

You try to make me love again ; 
But I am safe the while I think 

You've sat thus with a score of men." Tennyson. 

" The moment you attempt to find a base for morals outside of human 
nature, you go wrong; no other is solid and sure. The aid of the so-called 
sanctions of theology is not only needless, but mischievous. The alliance 
of the realities of duty with theological phantoms, exposes duty to the 
same ruin which daylight brines to tlio superstition that has been associ- 
ated with duty." John Morley. 

When Miss Paiiline Tyler received a proposal 
of marriage from Mr. Fred Harmon, her emotions 
almost overcame her. She assured him that she 
had never dreamed of such a thing, and that 
she really must have time to think it all over. 
Meantime she wanted him to understand, fully, 
that she was absolutely not betrothed to either the 
Envoy from Russia or the Senator from Michigan. 
How such cruel and foundationless reports got 
started in the first place, and how any one could 
be found to credit them, was beyond her compre- 
hension. 

Fred agreed with her in regard at least to a 
part of this statement ; but he hinted that it was 
no wonder such gossip found ready believers, 



248 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

for slander, like death, loved a shining mark and 
who else shone as she ? "I wonder who will be 
next," he thought, while he talked. " There are 
really comparatively few left, and she will surely 
not descend to captains in the regular army, or 
unofficial men of wealth. I never but once knew 
her to shoot below a colonel. Of coiarse she looks 
upon me as a bishop in embryo. She would be a 
great help to a man in his career. Her money, 
her untamed ambition, and her extensive blood 
relationship with everybody who is anybody, in 
both Boston and New York, would all 'be incom- 
parable advantages to a rising man. When she is 
married to me she will naturally drop the habit of 
denying her engagement to other men, and 
well, after all, only a very few people appear to 
see through it, and it is a slight foible, and not 
confined to her. I suppose it would be unreason- 
able for me to expect absolute perfection in taste 
and judgment." 

Fred sighed as he thought that no one in this 
world was likely to secure these when they married, 
unless, forsooth, it might be the fortunate woman 
who should one day become his bride. There was 
one point of difference between them. Pauline 
preferred that he should be a High Churchman ; 
and then it occurred to her that she might like 
it better if he did not go so far as to receive 
confessions from Henrietta Dangerfield and Lucy 



Is this your /Son, my Lord? 249 

Fairfax ; so, after all, it might be best for him not 
to go the length of having a confessional. To be 
just high enough to come below, that was her idea. 
But Fred demurred. He said that if he were not 
a Broad Churchman he should feel it his duty to 
take the vows of celibacy and poverty and join 
either an Episcopal or a Catholic Brotherhood. In- 
deed, he hinted gloomily, that his inner conscience 
told him that this was his highest ideal ; but that 
his heart pleaded for her. He was not at all sure 
that in the end he should not awake to realize that 
she was the beautiful temptress of old who should 
keep a struggling soul back from the loftiest attain- 
ment of which it was capable. The struggle had 
been a hard one but she love of her had won, 
and he had chosen the less holy way for her dear 
sake. 

Miss Pauline Tyler would have thought all this 
the noblest of sentiment if she had heard it or read 
it as applied to any one else ; but she was not 
prepared to look upon herself as a wholly sinful 
indulgence, which should make a man think he 
was giving up an altogether higher mission in a 
descent to her. Somehow it did not impress her 
as so entirely complimentary as Fred appeared to 
think. Of course it was beyond dispute that a 
Brotherhood was far higher and holier than 
marriage; but Pauline, for the first time in her 
life, questioned the taste of saying so. She put it 



250 Js this your Son, my Lord? 

on the ground of taste. So Mr. Fred Harmon was 
not the only party to the tacit engagement who 
pondered over certain little changes it would be 
desirable to make in the outward expression, if 
not in the inward thought, after they should be 
married. 

Pauline told him that she wanted time to exam- 
ine her heart. She appeared to look upon that 
important member as a detached article, which had 
to be taken from an orris perfumed drawer and 
spread out before her for inspection to discover if 
the moths had gotten into it since last summer. 
This looked perfectly reasonable to Fred and he 
consented. He expressed the hope, however, that 
she would be able to go all over it carefully in a 
week's time, as he did not think that he could 
endure the suspense for a longer period. She 
thought that a week would give her ample time 
for the minutest investigation and then she 
hinted that she would like to lay the matter before 
her confessor. Fred saw no objection to this, and 
he did not at all comprehend why she seemed a 
little hurt over it. He supposed that it was not 
that in reality. He had doubtless mistaken her 
manner and tone. It was most likely due to 
her deep spiritual preoccupation. 

But Pauline was thinking that she would not like 
to know that Lucy and Henrietta were confessing 
in private to him. Why was he so indifferent 



Is this your Son, my Lord? 251 

about her confessions to another man ? She was 
unable to solve the mystery, so she took another 
method. 

" If I say yes, can we not have a public, solemn, 
sacred betrothal ? I think I should be dressed in 
simple white, with a rosary about my waist, and 
we should kneel before Father High-church and 
have a betrothal service. We could invite a select 
few, and it could be very quiet indeed, and very 
effective." 

It impressed Fred as a charming idea. He at 
once pictured such service as a part of his future 
work. He thought she was right in thinking it 
could be made very effective. He saw himself in 
full vestments blessing a young couple kneeling 
before him, and then and there plighting their 
troth in a solemn way and in set terms. The more 
he thought of it the more firmly was he convinced 
that a betrothal should be a sacrament, and under 
the control of the clergy. He wondered if it would 
be easy to have a law passed to that effect. A 
wide field opened before him, and he felt that the 
duties and responsibilities of a servant of the altar 
were vastly greater and more varied than he had 
ever before realized. He wondered vaguely if he 
would be equal to it; but he put such thovights 
from him as unworthy. His vows would sustain 
him when once they were taken. Men failed or 
fell, he thought, because they did not openly 



252 Is this your Son, my Lord? 

commit themselves to a given course. When once 
his vows were taken, it would be easy enough. 
His liberty to browse on other fields would be 
surrendered. He felt very serious indeed, and the 
burdens of the new life seemed already almost upon 
him. He sighed. 

"I do not wonder you feel your position so 
keenly," Pauline said, sympathetically. " That is 
one reason I want time to think. As your wife, 
my life too would be necessarily devoted to the 
altar and the cross. It is almost like taking the 
veil to marry a man in holy orders, don't you think 
so ? It is very solemn. That is what I was think- 
ing of in the church betrothal. That could sym- 
bolize the white veil; then the marriage could 
represent the black veil. Of course I could not 
wear black, but we could translate it to mean that. 
Interpretation is everything, don't you think? It 
would mean only a marriage to other people, but 
to those who understood the true higher signifi- 
cance, I could be the bride of the church, and dead 
to the world henceforth." 

Fred glanced at the handsome bronze clock, and 
said that he must leave her now. Both, he said, 
needed to be alone to think. He would not 
attempt to see her again until that day week. He 
stood with his legs very wide apart and gazed at 
her a moment, and then wrung her hand and bowed 
himself out. 



Is this your Son y my Lord? 253 

As he buttoned his great coat over his evening 
dress, he said to himself: " By Jove, I believe I am 
late, don't you know! "What a cad to stay over 
time. The fellows won't wait, and I shall miss the 
game altogether." Then he consoled himself with 
th6 memory that in that case he could still drop in 
for the last act of the comic opera, and see one of 
the plump beauties, in tights, home. The Parker 
House or even the "Parsonage" would not be 
much out of her way actresses were always hun- 
gry. He supposed this sort of thing would have 
to be stopped after he took his vows ; but, mean- 
time 

" Drive faster," he called out, " I am beastly late 
now!" 



254 Is this your Son, my Lordt 



CHAPTER XVI. 

"Strange Is the heart of man, with Its quick, mysterious Instincts! 
Strange la the life of man, and fatal or fated are moments, 
\\ hereupon turn, as on binges, the gates of the wall adamantine! " 

Longfellow. 

" The conduct that Issues from a moral conflict has often so close a 
resemblance to vice, that the distinction escapes all outward judgments, 
founded on a mere comparison of actions." George Shot, 

" Oh, here will I set up my everlasting rest; 
And shake the yoke of Inauspicious stars 
From this world-wearied jesa. Syes, loou your last! 
Anns, take your last embrace! and lips, o you, 
The doors of breath, seal with a rigliteotr kiss 
A dateless bargain to engrossing death \"ShaJtspeare. 

The next day I sat waiting for Preston Mansfield. 
I had made up my mind to advise him to tell Nellie 
the truth, at all hazards. I was surprised to find 
that he was late. I looked at my watch. It 
wanted a quarter to three, and my office hour began 
in thirty minutes. The door was flung open and 
Preston burst into the room like a madman. 

"Doctor, for God's sake let me bring her in 
here!" he exclaimed, breathlessly. His face was 
set and wild, and his lips pressed each other, until 
the instant after he had spoken, they were thin and 
white. I had never seen such wild despair, fight- 
ing with hope,, on any human face. " She is dying, 
I think ! It was all my fault ! I " 

He had rushed back to the carriage which stood 
at my door, and I had followed him. 



Js this your Son, my -Lord? 255 

"Here, let her alone, there! Don't you touch 
her. Nellie ! Nellie ! " he murmured, with his lips 
close to her ear ; but she did not move, nor open 
her eyes, and he turned to me with a groan. 

" It takes the strength all out of me to see her 
like that. I thought I could carry her alone ; but 
you help me, doctor. I don't want that fellow to 
touch her, and two of us can make it easier for her, 
can't we ? There, now, so ? No, under this way. 
Is that right, doctor ? I'm so Won't that hurt 
her ? Is there any danger of holding her so as to 
miss a chance of getting her heart to beat again ? 
On the floor? Oh, doctor, why not on your 
lounge? No pillow? Nellie, Nellie! Oh, do some- 
thing, doctor, do something for God's sake, do 
something to save her ! " He chafed her hands, and 
watched her lips with an eagerness born of despair. 

" Do you think she will ever speak again, doctor ? 
Is it it is not death? My God! she will 
speak again, once ? Once ? " 

" Wait, Preston," I said, " I am trying to learn 
if it is if she will breathe again. Sit there. 
Tell me how it happened, while I work. Here, 
hold this now help. No, not that way so. 
Yes, that is right. Let her lie so. Now hold this, 
and tell me how it happened." 

He groaned aloud, " It was all my fault. I took 
her to drive. You know that colt of mine ? Well, 
I took it like a damned fool. I had no business 



256 Is this your Son, my Lordf 

to risk her life. This way? Oh, did her eyelid 
move ? Look ! Oh, doctor, won't that hurt her ? 
Nellie ! Nellie ! Great God ! Is she dead ? My 
darling, my darling, speak to me just once ! 
just once ! Oh, God, have mercy ! Just once ! " 
. The tears were rolling down his cheeks and fall- 
ing unheeded. He would not dry them lest a sign 
that she might move or speak would be lost by the 
movement. His eyes were strained and set upon 
her face which was but little whiter than his own 
He had looked so long at her eyes that the waver- 
ing of his own deceived him. 

" Oh, doctor, she is alive ! Her eyelids moved. 
I am sure ! Oh, I am sure ! Nellie, Nellie, can you 
hear me ? I love you, I love you, I love you, darling ! 
Do you hear me, darling ? Don't die and not know. 
Oh, my God, it is no use ! There did you see that? 
She did move that time. Her lips, listen ! " 

He put his ear to the voiceless lips and strained 
to hear the tones that were silent forever. Presently 
he looked up at me and then slowly gathered her in 
his arms and staggered to a chair. 

" Lock the door, doctor," he said hoarsely, " and 
go away. She is mine, now, and I want to be all 
alone with her just a little while. Nellie, Nellie, 
darling, I love you, oh, I loved you too truly to de- 
ceive you ! I could not ask you to marry me as it 
was. Do you understand now? Do you? Do 
you? OGod!" 



Js this your Son, my Lord? 257 

He strained the lifeless form to his breast, and 
kissed the parted lips as one starving and now in 
reach of food. 

" I shall be back, Preston," I said, " in just fifteen 
minutes. Try to be calmer, my boy," and I laid 
my hand on his head. He looked up, with the 
tears still streaming from his eyes, and slowly 
shook his head. Five minutes later I looked into 
the room through a glass partition. He had turned 
with his face to the clock, and was holding the 
dead girl in his arms, as when I left him. Presently 
I heard a movement within, and I stepped to the 
door again. He was laying her on the lounge. 
He placed her gently there, and kissed her lips and 
hands. Then he knelt beside her, and laid his 
head upon her feet, and as the hands of the clock 
pointed to the time I said I 'should return, a shot 
rang out through the silent house. I burst through 
the door, and knelt beside him. 

" Forgive me, doctor," he whispered. " It was the 
only way. You you will understand. I told 

her and she turned from me. She tried 
to jump from the buggy, and the colt 
eaw her and ran . I ought to have known 

better. It was all my fault." 

Two hours later Preston Mansfield was dead. 
Dead by his own hand. Or stay, was it by the 
hand of his father? 

THB 



From the press of the Arena Publishing Company. 



"Che Hit of the year." 



Helen H. 
Gardener 



Chicago Times 



The Literary Hit 
of the Season 



Rockford (111.) 
Republican 



Pride, paper, 50 cents ; cloth, $1.25. 



AN UNOFFICIAL PATRIOT. 

Have you read Helen H. Gardener's new war story, "An 
Unofficial Patriot 11 ? No? Then read what competent 
critics say of this remarkable historical story of the Civil 
War. 

" Helen H. Gardener has made for herself within a very few 
years an enviable fame for the strength and sincerity of her 
writing on some of the most important phases of modern social 
questions. Her most recent novel, now published under the title 
of An Unofficial Patriot,' is no less deserving of praise. As an 
artistic piece of character study this book is possessed of supe- 
rior qualities. There is nothing in it to offend the traditions of 
an honest man, north or south. It is written with an evident 
knowledge of the circumstances and surroundings such as might 
have made the story a very fact, and, more than all, it is written 
with an assured sympathy for humanity and a recognition of 
right and wrong wherever found. As to the literary merit of 
the book and its strength as a character study, as has been said 
heretofore, it is a superior work. The study of Griffith Daven- 
port, the clergyman, and of his true friend, ' Lengthy ' Patterson, 
is one to win favor from every reader. There are dramatic 
scenes in their association that thrill and touch the heart. 
Davenport's two visits to President Lincoln are other scenes 
worthy of note for the same quality, and they show an apprecia- 
tion of the feeling and motive of the president more than histori- 
cal in its sympathy. Mrs. Gardener may well be proud of her 
success in the field of fiction." 

" Helen Gardener's new novel, ' An Unofficial Patriot,' which 
is just out, will probably be the most popular and salable novel 
since ' Robert Elsmere.' It is by far the most finished and 
ambitious book yet produced by the gifted author and well de- 
serves a permanent place in liteiature. 

" The plot of the story itself guarantees the present sale. It 
is ' something new under the sun' and strikes new sensations, 
new situations, new conditions. To be sure it is a war story, and 
war stories are old and hackneyed. But there has been no such 
war story as this written. It gives a situation new in fiction and 
tells the story of the war from a standpoint which gives the book 
priceless value as a sociological study and as supplemental 
history. 

" The plot is very strong and is all the more so when the 
reader learns that it is true. The story is an absolutely true one 
and is almost entirely a piece of history written in form of fic- 
tion, with names and minor incidents altered." 

For sale by all newsdealers, or sent postpaid by 

Arena Publishing Co., Boston, Mass. 



i-rom the press of the Arena Publishing Company. 



Che Double 8tan6ar6 of Jftorals Discussed. 



Mrs. S. n. 
H. Gardner 



Price, paper, 50 cents ; doth, $1.25. 
THE FORTUNES OF HARGARET WELD. 

This is a frank, simple record of the terrible temptation 
that sweeps with the force of circumstance into only too 
many women's lives. Margaret Weld is typical of a great 
many profoundly spiritual characters touched with the 
spirit of revolt against the old blind conventionalisms of re- 
ligious and social dogma, but not wholly in accord with 
the profounder religious spirit underlying the new thought. 
In many respects it is an old story, but it is one that needs 
telling over and over again, of which the heart can never 
tire. And there is an element of hope and pity and justice 
in it which belongs entirely to the new spirit creeping in- 
to the literature of social thought of our day. The story 
shows how a high-minded, pure woman, can make a grave 
mistake, but it also shows that with an environment of 
human sympathy, and love, and true charity, that mistake 
is not irreparable. It is a strong plea for a single standard 
of morals. 

Price, paper, 50 cents ; cloth, $1.00. 
PRAY YOU, SIR, WHOSE DAUGHTER? 

" The civil and canon law," writes Mrs. Elizabeth Cady 
Stanton, "state and church alike, make the mothers of 
the race a helpless, ostracised class, pariahs of a corrupt 
civilization. In Helen Gardener's stories I see the promise 
of such a work of fiction that shall paint the awful facts of 
woman's position in living colors that all must see and feel. 
Those who know the sad facts of woman's life, so carefully 
veiled from society at large, will not consider the pictures 
in this story overdrawn. Some critics say that everyone 
knows and condemns these facts in our social life, and 
that we do not need fiction to intensify the public disgust. 
But to keep our sons and daughters innocent we must warn 
them of the dangers that beset them. Ignorance under 
no circumstances insures safety. Honor protected by 
knowledge is safer than innocence protected by ignorance." 
For sale by all newsdealers or sent postpaid by 

Arena Publishing Co., Boston, Mass. 



PR Gardener, Helen Hamilton 

4708 (Chenoweth) 

G37I8 Is this your son. my Lord? 

189-4 




UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO LIBRARY