My father loved him once. I know he would like me to do
something--to make the name honorable again."
"That," he said, in a hard voice, "is beyond your power."
She showed no disposition to contradict him, or even to maintain the
conversation. Presently he went on:--
"I cannot let you injure your foundation by--branding it with his
notoriety, in an impulsive and--and fruitless generosity. For it would
be fruitless. You, of all people, must understand that the burden on
the other side is--impossibly heavy. You know that, don't you?"
She raised her head and looked at him.
Again, her pride had been plucking at her heartstrings, burning her with
the remembrance that he, when he gave her everything that a man could
give, had done it in a manner perfect and without flaw. And now she,
with her infinitely smaller offering, sat tongue-tied and ineffectual,
unable to give with a show of the purple, too poor-spirited even to
yield him the truth for his truth which alone made the gift worth the
offering.
Her blood, her spirit, and all her inheritance rallied at the call of
her pride.
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