His father eyed him darkly as he approached, and with a stern gesture,
ordered him to keep silent until they were alone. Then giving final
instructions to his steward about the service and lodging of his
guests, he turned and walked sharply to an auxiliary den, with his son
a brooding tempest behind. No sooner had the doors closed behind them
than the deluge broke. At first the father tried to weather his son's
wrath, hoping that it would soon spend itself, like all his passions.
But Stephen was not merely upset. He was outraged. For perhaps the
first time in his life, he knew the intoxicating power of righteous
anger. His sister, whom he loved and had sworn to protect, had been
locked away like the coarsest and commonest of criminals. And he knew
Ballard well enough to imagine the state in which he must have left
her, and what she must be feeling now. The thought of his thick,
gnarled hands upon her, dragging her away, was the final straw.
"You bastard
."
It has been truly said that a father shall be judged by his sons, and
that if he is found wanting, they will be a bane and a curse until
death.
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