ave brought me back. They held up the torch. I let it fall. Uncle
Ben, do you think it has gone out? Suppose one of my children's
children should stumble and then say, 'It is not my fault. I inherited
this. There was grandmamma who went her willful way so long ago!' I
know my dust would shiver in the ground. I can't add any more to the
weaknesses and follies that will crush them down. Having my own way
costs too much when they must pay. That's it. I have n't the price. I
refuse to let them pay.--Will you help me, Uncle Ben? Will you ask
Arnold to let me try again? I will be good. I will be humble--almost!
For I must have my children if only that I may pass this on. The thing
is to abolish our complacency. Why--it's {123} what the old
religionists meant when they talked about getting down in the dust
before their God! It really, really, is the thing we have to do. And--
my children will never learn it here, among you, where everybody is so
happy and self-satisfied. They will never learn it even from the
righteous Arnold. If they know it, they will have to learn it from me--
for I am the only repentant sinner of us all! So--I have come back."

Desire's words stirred me strangely. I had sometimes suspected that I
allowed my modest pride of descent to feed complacency rather than
effort. As she talked, I, too, saw the long procession of the valiant
men and women of my race moving forward through the years; I saw how I
had lightly arrogated credit to myself for their hard-won
excellencies, and reckoned {124} myself a finer gentleman for the
battles they had fought. Where were my battles? Where my victories?

Then--I remembered that the Withacres always could talk like angels
from heaven. But I looked into Desire's eyes, and that thought
shriveled before the flame in them. They met mine exultantly, as steel
meets steel. This was no lip eloquence. She was eager for her battles.

"So," I said with wonder, "you have capitulated--to Them."

"Yes--to Them. Oh, it is n't needful, Uncle Ben, that to show my
kinship I should work as they did, live as plainly, think as narrowly.
It is all here just the same. I am their child. I will not go against
their will. Before ever I was born, they wrote their desires in my
flesh. They made the blood to flow in my veins after their ways. {125}
And--I am glad! For my children shall be their children.--Uncle Ben,
will Arnold take me home?"

I looked at Desire's glowing face that seemed afire w