"Then I'm not going to stand it.I tell you I won't stay here if Thurston marries Amy."Mr.Warlock sighed."Well then, let's leave it, my boy.I daresay they'll never marry.""No.I won't have it.It's too serious to leave."His father's voice was sharper suddenly.
"Well, we won't talk about it just now, Martin, if you don't mind.""But I must.You can't leave a thing like that.Thurston will simply own the place...""I tell you, Martin, to leave it alone." They were both angry now.
"And I tell you, father, that if you let Thurston marry Amy I leave the house and never come back again.""Isn't that rather selfish of you? You've been away all these years.
You've left us to ourselves.You come back suddenly without seeing how we live or caring and then you dictate to us what we're to do.
How can you expect us to listen?"
"And how can you expect me to stay?" Martin broke into a torrent of words: "I'm miserable here and you know that I am.Mother and Amy hate me and you're always wrapped up in your religion.What kind of a place is it for a fellow? I came back meaning that you and Ishould be the best pals father and son have ever been, but you wouldn't come out with me--you only wanted to drag me in.You tell me always to wait for something.To wait for what? I don't know.And nobody here does seem to know.And I can't wait for ever.I've got to lead my own life and if you won't come with me I must go off by myself--"He was following his own ideas now--not looking at his father at all."I've discovered since I've been home that I'm not the sort of fellow to settle down.I suppose I shall go on wandering about all my days.I'm not proud of myself, you know, father.I don't seem to be much good to any one, but the trouble is I don't want to be much better.I feel as though it wouldn't be much good if I did try.Ican't give up my own life--for nobody--not even for you--and however rotten my own life is I'd rather lead it than some one else's."He stopped and then went on quietly, as though he were arguing something out with himself: "The strange thing is that I do feel this place has got a kind of a hold on me.When you remind me of what I was like as a kid I go right back and feel helpless as though you could do anything with me you like.All the same I don't believe in this business, father--all this Second Coming and the rest of it.
We're in the Twentieth Century now, you know, and everybody knows that that kind of thing is simply impossible.Only an old maid or two...Why, I don't believe you believe in it really, father.
That's why you're so keen on making me believe.But I don't; it's no use.You can't make me.I don't believe there's any God at all.If there were a God he'd let a fellow have more free will..."He was interrupted by an extraordinary cry.He turned to see his father standing, one hand pressed back on the chair, his face white, his eyes black and empty, like sightless eyes.
"Martin! That's blasphemy!...Take care! Take care!...Oh, my son, my son!..."Then he suddenly collapsed backwards, crouching on to the chair as though he were trying to flee from some danger.Martin sprang towards him.He caught him round the body, holding him to him--something was leaping like a furious animal inside his father's breast.
"What is it?" he cried, desperately frightened.
"It's my heart," Warlock answered in a voice very soft and distant.
"Bad...Excitement...Ring that bell...Amy..."A moment later Amy entered.She came quickly into the room, she said nothing--only gave Martin one look.
She gave her father something from a little bottle, kneeling in front of him.
At last she turned to her brother."You'd better go," she said."You can do nothing here."Miserable, repentant, feeling as though he had no place in the world and yet eager too to defend himself, he left the room.
