“I am interested,” replied Usher. “I think nothing human alien to me. _Nil humani_, as we used to say at school. I remember my classics. I have a very good memory. Here it is. The jury found Mrs. Trevelyan guilty of adultery with the co-respondent. Damages £5000 and costs. The judge pronounced a decree _nisi_; the husband to have custody of the children. I pity the poor woman.” “I don't,” said Sylvester, shortly. “Such women are better dead.” “No doubt you are right,” returned Usher. “The sacred principles of morality ought to be upheld at any cost. I have always upheld morality. What do you think, Matthew?” The old man looked steadily at his finger nails and replied in a dispassionate voice,-- “One never knows what lies behind.” Sylvester rose and shrugged his shoulders. “Wantonness and baseness lie behind. I have no patience with misplaced sympathy in such cases. Here is this woman you are reading about,--she betrayed her husband, deserted her children. She deserves no pity.” Usher waggled his head indulgently. “I am a Christian man,” he said, “and I have a tender heart. I have always had a tender heart, Matthew.” Sylvester laughed and threw the end of his cigar into the fire. He was half ashamed of having been betrayed into a display of deep feeling before one whom he considered a shallow egotist. “Well, I haven't,” he said. “I'm going up to the drawing-room. Perhaps you'll join me.” He nodded to his father and left the room. Matthew edged his chair further from the fire, and wiped his lips and brow with his handkerchief. “You are getting too warm,” said Usher. “The room is hot. When you have finished your wine, we may as well follow Sylvester.” Usher poured out another glass. “I am very comfortable,” he said. “I always am here. You must be proud to have a son with such sentiments as Sylvester.” Matthew rose abruptly from his seat, clenched his hands by his side, and bit a quivering lip. Evidently he was mastering something. “Drink your wine and come upstairs,” he said. The other looked at him askance and hesitated. Then yielding, as it were, to compulsion, he gulped down the contents of his glass and rose with watery eyes. “It was a sin to do that,” he said with a sigh. “You always were an unreasonable fellow, Matthew. I only said I was glad that Sylvester held such opinions. Most young men nowadays are shockingly lax in their principles.” Matthew did not reply, but with cold, imperturbable face opened the door for him to pass out. Usher hung back. “I must speak to you about my son Roderick. Business before pleasure. It has been my constant rule in life.” “What has Roderick been doing now?” asked Matthew, closing the door again. “He is bringing my grey hairs in sorrow to the grave again,” replied Usher. “My son and your son--what a difference, Matthew! 'Tis sharper than--” “Rubbish! What's the matter, man?”