went, the fight is driving
you crazy--can't you see, John?"

The son did not reply for a moment, then he said, "Oh, well, mother,
that was all right in that day, but--"

"John Barclay," cried the mother sternly, as she leaned toward him,
"the faith that bore your father a martyr to the grave, sustained me
in this wilderness, and kept me happy as I scrubbed for your bread,
shall not be scoffed in my presence. We are going to have this thing
out to-night. I, who bore you, and nursed you, and fed you, and staked
my soul on your soul, have some rights to-night. Here you are,
fifty-four years old, and what have you done? You've killed your
friend and your friend's father before him--I know that, John. You've
wrecked the life of the sister of your first sweetheart, and put fear
and disgrace in her father's face forever--forever, John Barclay, as
long as he lives. I know that too; I haven't been wrapped in pink
cotton all these years, boy--I've lived my own life since you left my
wing, and made my own way too, as far as that goes. And now you are
trying to quench the fires of remorse in your soul because your wife
died a victim of your selfish, ruthless, practical scheme of things.
More than that, my son--more than that, your child is suffering all
the agony that a woman can suffer because of your devilish system of
traffic in blood for money. You know what I mean, John. That boy told
the truth, as you admit, and he could either run or lie, and for being
a man you have broken up a God-sent love merely to satisfy your own
vanity. Oh, John--John," she cried passionately, "my poor, blind,
foolish boy--haven't you found the ashes in the core of your faith
yet--aren't you ready to quit?"

He began, "Don't you think, mother, I have suffered--"

"Suffered, boy? Suffered? Of course you have suffered, John," she
answered, taking his hands in hers. "I have seen the furnace fires
smoking your face, and I know you have suffered, Johnnie; that's why I
am coming to you--to ask you to quit suffering. Look at it, my
boy--what are you suffering for? Is it material power you want? Well,
you have never had it. The people are going right along running their
own affairs in spite of you. All your nicely built card houses are
knocked over. In the states and in the federal government, in spite of
your years of planning and piecing out your little practical system,
at the very first puff of God's breath it goes to pieces. The men whom
you bought