Instead he found a cruel and ridiculous mortification, made permanent
by thirty-two unpardoning years. Here was no sin to command the
dreadful dignity of repentance, with its divine response of
forgiveness. The very lack of seriousness in the cause made the effect
more serious. He looked over at the older man, and shook his head....
How could they pay their debts to each other, this father and son?
Could Benjamin Wright return the self-respect he had stolen away?
Could Samuel offer that filial affection which should have blessed all
these empty years? A wickedly ludicrous memory forbade the solemnity
of a reconciliation: below any attempt the father might make, there
would be a grin, somewhere; below any attempt the son might make,
there would be a cringe, somewhere. The only possible hope was in
absolute, flat commonplace. Play-writing, as a subject of
conversation, was out of the question!
"Benjamin," he said with agitation, "I thank God that you are willing
to see Samuel; but you must promise me not to refer to Sam's play. You
must promise me this, or the last end of the quarrel will be worse
than the first."
"I haven't said I was willing to see him," Mr. Wright broke out; "I'm
_not_ willing! Is it likely that I would hanker after an interview?
All I want is to get the boy away from Old Chester; to 'see the
world.' His--father ought to sympathize with that! Yes; to get him
away, I would even--But if you will tell his--relatives, that in my
judgment, he ought to go away, that is all that is necessary.
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