"You're under my control, you're supported by me. You'll go to college in September as we planned and then to the Medical School, and when you're through you shall decide about the Seventh-Day Baptists. If your religion is what you think it is, delay will make no difference; it will rather strengthen you. This will be a test which you should welcome."
A slight contraction of the muscles changed the expression of Levis's face. Meekness--that was one of the weapons of Abraham Milhausen's daughter!
He felt an almost irresistible desire to pour out upon his boy all the heretical beliefs, all the unorthodox speculations which had for years filled his hours of meditation, to fortify him with skepticism against the foolish hopes built up by the Christian religion. He believed he had, like the Stoics, the possession of his own soul. Once he had expounded his convictions to the boy's mother and she had withdrawn herself physically and mentally until she died. But the world would take care of Matthew!
"You don't suppose that all wisdom is incarnate in Grandfather, do you, Matthew?"
"He's only a human being," answered Matthew, with the same trying neatness of response. "But even children can understand all that is necessary to be saved."
"Well, my boy, when things begin to seem puzzling to you, your father may be able to help."
Matthew rose also. He was tired and he had many things to think of. He looked at his father with strong disapproval; he thought of Grandfather's saintliness and the pretty face of Millie König. His father lit a cigarette; it was as alienating an act as could have been committed.
"I think Ellen should be punished for disturbing the meeting," said he. "It shamed me for her."
"I'll attend to Ellen," promised Levis with a satisfying grimness.
But, having reached the doorway, Matthew suffered misgivings.
"You don't mean that I'm not to go to church at all?"
Having opened his lips and closed them, Matthew withdrew, backwards, and went upstairs.
It was not because of ingratitude or altogether because of forgetfulness that Stephen Lanfair had neglected his friend. Their association had continued as long as circumstances made the seeing of one another possible. When the longed-for interneship was won, Levis had been for two years out of the Medical School and Stephen was preoccupied with the straight, dark gaze and free and saucy manners of Hilda Fell. After Hilda had seen him, she had, for reasons as yet unexplained by psychologists, forsworn all other company. He was awkward, he knew none of the lively give-and-take of her set, he was grave in manner and thought; but she would have no other. Her passion for him assumed an ominous intensity; she was happy only when she had before her a definite prospect of meeting him, she was unhappy when the character of the meeting was such that she must share his attention with others.