Stafford drew a long breath. There seemed to him still a chance of
saving himself, the girl he loved, above all--his honour.
"But even if it were so, father," he said; "other men have failed,
other men have been defeated, ruined, and left penniless, and yet have
risen and shaken the dust from them and fought their way again to the
heights. You're not an old man, you are strong and clever, and you are
not alone." he said, in a lower voice. "I'm not much use, I know. But
I'll try and help you all I can. I've often felt ashamed of myself for
living such an idle, useless life; often felt that I ought to do
something to justify my existence. There's a chance now; at any rate,
there's an occasion, a necessity for my waking up and stepping into the
ring to do a little fighting on my own account. We may be beaten by Mr.
Falconer; but don't say we're utterly crushed. That doesn't sound like
you, sir; and I don't understand why you should chuck up the sponge so
quickly."
Sir Stephen raised his head and looked at Stafford with a curious
expression of mingled surprise and apprehension.
"What is it you are saying, Stafford?" he asked. "What is it you mean?
I don't understand. We're not beaten; Ralph Falconer has offered to
make the concession over to me; and no one need know that I have
failed, that he had stolen the march on me. You heard what he said:
that you were in love with his daughter Maude, and that of course he
could not injure his future son-in-law. Stafford!" He sprang to his
feet and began to pace up and down the room. "I know that this has
touched your pride--I can give a pretty good guess as to how proud you
are--but, for God's sake! don't let your pride stand in the way of this
arrangement."
"But--" Stafford began; for he felt that he could not longer keep back
the truth, that his father must be told not only that there was nothing
between Maude and himself, but that he loved Ida Heron.
But before he could utter another word Sir Stephen stopped before him,
and with hands thrown out appealingly, and with a look of terror and
agony in his face, cried in broken accents: "If you going to raise any obstacle, Stafford, prompted by your pride,
for God's sake, don't say the word! You don't know, you don't
understand! You speak of ruin as if it meant only the loss of money,
the loss of every penny." He laughed almost hysterically, and his lips
twitched. "Do you think I should care for that, except for your sake?
No, a thousand times, no! I'm young still, I could begin the world
again! Yes, and conquer it as I have done before; but"--his voice sank,
and he look round the room with a stealthy glance which shocked and
startled Stafford--"the ruin Ralph Falconer threatens me with means
more than the loss of money. It means the loss of everything! Of
friends, of good name--of hope!"