"Why, girl, Con's father, my younger brother, was as talented as Con,
but he was a scamp. He had money enough to pave the way to his own
destruction. Until it was gone he spurned me--spurned even his own
genius. He married a woman as mad as himself and then--without a
qualm--tossed her aside to die. He had no sense of responsibility--no
shame. He had temperament--a damnable one--and he drifted on it to the
end. When it was all over, I brought Conning here. Just at that
time--well, it was soon after your mother married your father--this
creeping disease fell upon me. If it hadn't been for the boy I'd have
ended the whole thing then and there, but with the burden laid upon me I
couldn't slip out. It has been a kind of race ever since--this menace
mounting higher and higher and the making of Con keeping pace. I swore
that if he had talent it must prove itself against hardship, not in
luxury. I made life difficult in order to toughen and inspire. I never
meant to kill--you must do me that justice. Only you see, chained here,
I couldn't follow close enough, and Con had pride, thank God! and he
thought he had hate--but he hasn't or he'd have starved rather than
accept what I offered. In his heart he--well, let us say--respects me to
a certain extent. I saw him widening the space between himself and his
inheritance--and it has helped me live; you saw him making a man of
himself and it became more absorbing than the opportunity of annexing
yourself to a man already made. Oh, I have seen it all and it has helped
me in my plan."

"Your--plan?" The question was a feeble attempt to grapple with a
situation growing too big and strong. "Your plan--what is your plan?"

"Lynda, I have made my will! Sitting apart and looking on, the doing of
this has been the one great excitement of my life. Through the years I
have believed I was doing it alone; now I see your mother's guiding hand