"We might as well come straight to the point," the gentleman began, but with white lips and averted eyes, for he had never been as conscious of his own littleness of soul and lack of manliness as at that moment in the presence of his son, whom he recognized as infinitely his superior in every respect. "I spent a couple of hours with Alfred Talford last evening, and he told me of his interview with you and also gave me the history of your life. Since this conference must necessarily be mostly one of confession, I may as well state plainly at the outset that I never really loved your mother. She was a bright, handsome girl, and I was temporarily attracted toward her, while a spirit of deviltry prompted me to try to make her prove false to Alf, between whom and myself there had always existed a feeling of jealousy and rivalry.
"How well I succeeded you already know. I completely mesmerized the girl into believing that her existence depended upon me, and persuaded her to elope with me, leaving her discarded lover to bear his disappointment as best he could. We went West, but I soon grew weary of my unloved wife. Perhaps I could have borne our relations better if we had been prosperous; but after the money I had taken with me had given out and I knew I would not be likely to get any more out of the estate while my mother lived, I had hard luck--I did not get business that amounted to anything, and every day was a struggle for a meager existence. Belle had to work hard to help along, and so had no time to spend upon pretty toilets to make herself attractive as before our marriage, while anxiety and disappointment stole all her color and beauty. I stood it as long as I could, and then I made up my mind to bolt. I----"
"Pardon, Mr. Temple," Clifford here interposed, a look of mingled pain and aversion sweeping over his face, "pray spare yourself and me a rehearsal of that--I have in my possession the letter which you wrote my mother at that time, and it needs no elucidation."
"Very well," the man curtly observed, though he shrank visibly, as he realized how utterly contemptible he must appear in the eyes of his son if he had read the cruel lines he had written. "On leaving Chicago I dropped my last name, Wilton, and called myself Temple. I drifted into a mining-district of Colorado, where, after a time, I made a lively strike, and, in a few years, became independently rich. Then, as I did not like the rough life of a miner and craved better society, I sold out and went to San Francisco, where I established myself as a banker."