The Son of His Father; vol. 1/3Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
General
The Son of His Father; vol. 1/3
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Fathers and sons -- Fiction
‘Grandfather!’ said John again.
‘Don’t speak to me. I’ll go and telegraph for Emily back again. She’ll
have to find me a place where I can have some peace; for all my peace
will be gone here. Oh, John! oh, John! I am glad she has not lived to
see this day.’
‘Don’t say that, grandfather,’ the boy cried. ‘I’ll not do anything to
vex you. I only wanted to bear my own name.’
‘And who told you it was your own name? Your mother is Sandford, and so
are you----’
‘My mother?’ said John, faltering--‘my mother?’
‘Perhaps,’ said old Sandford, ‘you’re going to deny her too----’
And then there was a silence in the middle of the storm--a silence which
marked the dangerous point beyond which these two unused to fighting did
not care to go.
‘Grandfather,’ said John at last, ‘I don’t want to vex you, nor to make
myself as if I didn’t belong to you. But why shouldn’t you tell me? I’m
old enough to understand. If there’s any secret, oughtn’t I to know it?
Perhaps it isn’t half so bad as the things I take into my head. It would
be so much better if you would trust me--tell me. One time or other I
shall be sure to find out; and if I’ve been insulting my mother (how can
I tell?) and vexing you, is it my fault? It is out of exasperation
because I know there is something, and yet what it is I’m not allowed to
know.’
The old man calmed down during this speech and perceived what his best
policy was. He said:
‘You moider my poor brains with your talk of secrets. Let alone, my
boy. There’s few families that haven’t got something that they keep to
themselves--but the Sandfords have less than most. We’ve never been very
rich or great, but we’ve always been able to hold up our heads wherever
we went. I’m very shaky this morning,’ he said, relapsing into his
broken voice. ‘I’d like to take the air a little; but I’ve been so long
indoors I don’t know if I could keep my legs.’
‘Will you have my arm, grandfather?’ said John.
‘Well,’ said the old man, with his half sob, ‘the first day we’re alone
it’s a kind of natural to go out together; and we’ll just look if
there’s a snowdrop or two out yonder. By this time there should be a
snowdrop out.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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