"Indeed, I am sorry to hear it," replied the captain coldly.
"A most unhappy man," pursued the other. "I have been stung, sir, stung to the quick; I have nursed--nay, fondled--a viper in my bosom, with the inevitable result. I allude, sir, to my son. Debts I could have forgiven, recklessness I could condone--it is in the blood, and must out; but ingratitude, never! When I think of all that that boy owes to me--his talents, his education, everything--I feel that it is too much. Even the family temper--the temper that will take him far--he owes to me. And now, sir, what does he do?"
The captain shifted uneasily in his seat, and Comethup looked distressed; 'Linda had turned her head away.
"He forsakes me in my declining years; mocks the hand that fed him; leaves me to loneliness and despair. And yet, foolish creature that I am, my heart still yearns for him; my hearth is still warm for him. After all," he pursued, in a lighter vein, "I suppose I have no right to complain. As I have said, it is in the blood; he bears the taint that has kept his wretched father down in the world, and yet--thank God!--the taint which has kept him a gentleman." His breast swelled, and he shook his head valiantly.
No one quite knew what to say, and there was an awkward silence. Comethup glanced at 'Linda, but she was still looking out across the country, and he could not clearly see her face.
"I suppose," went on Mr. Robert Carlaw, rapidly regaining his more joyous manner--"I suppose that one must expect that young birds will try their wings, and fly from the nest in time. I trust that he will fly strongly; I'm _sure_ he will fly strongly. But he was made for better things than to seek his fortune in the rough-and-tumble of the world. Like his unfortunate father, he is a disappointed man; he should have had a fortune, but for the caprices--there, there, we will say no more of that. I had hoped, too, that he might have remained, for another reason; I had almost believed that a childish attachment was ripening into--but no matter; time will show."
Comethup glanced at 'Linda again; her face was still averted, but on her cheek he could see that a sudden flush had grown, and that her hands were toying nervously with a ribbon at her waist. Deep down in his heart a little sudden chill of uneasiness sprang up and clouded the day for him; he had a quick memory of the last time he had traversed that road in a carriage as a child, when he had seen his cousin and the girl strolling down a lane together, the boy's arm round her neck. He wanted to spring up and tell Mr. Robert Carlaw that it wasn't true, that no one wanted him there, and that he was spoiling everything and making every one unhappy. But he sat still, and for a time they drove on in silence.