He told Sabina this and she explained it.

“I dare say she has.  A woman can see why, though doubtless you cannot.  It isn’t because he’s himself that she’s active for him; and it isn’t because he’s my child, either.  It’s because he’s your child.  Your blood’s sacred in her eyes you may be sure.  She was a child herself when you ruined me; she forgets all that.  Why?  Because ever since she’s grown to womanhood and intelligence to note what happens, you have been a saint of virtue and the friend of the weak and the champion of the poor.  So, of course, she feels that such a great and good man’s son only wants his father’s care to make him great and good too.”

“To think you can talk so after all these years, Sabina,” he said.

“How should I talk?  What are the years to me?  You never knew, or understood, or respected the stuff I was made of; and you’ll never understand your child, either, or the stuff he’s made of; and you can tell the young woman that loves you so much, that she’s wrong—­as wrong as can be.  Nothing’s gained by your having any hand in Abel’s future.  You won’t win him with sugarplums now, any more than you will with money later on.  He’s made of different stuff from you—­and better stuff and rarer stuff.  There’s very little of you in him and very little of me, either.  He’s himself, and the fineness that might have made him a useful man under fair conditions, is turned to foulness now.  Your child was ruined in the making—­not by me, but by you yourself.  And such is his mind that he knows it already.  So be warned and let him alone.”

“If anything could make me agree with Miss Waldron, Sabina, it would be what you tell me,” he answered.  “And if I can live to show you that you are terribly wrong I shall be glad.”

“That you never will.”

“At least you’ll do nothing to come between us?”

“I never have.  I was very careful not to do that.  If he can look at you as a friend presently, I shan’t prevent it.  I shan’t warn him against you—­though I’ve warned you against him.  The weak use poisonous weapons, because they haven’t got the strength to use weapons of might.  That’s why he tried to burn down the Mill.  He’ll be stronger some day.”

“He’s clever, I’m told, and if we can only interest him in some intelligent business and find what his bent is, we may fill his mind to good purpose.  At any rate, I thank you for leaving me free to act.  Now I can decide what course to take.  It was impossible until I heard what you felt.”

She said no more and he left her to make up his mind.  Doubt persisted there, for he still suspected, that five years in a reformatory might be better for Abel than anything else.  Such an experience he felt would develop his character, crush his malignant instincts and leave him only too ready to accept his father as his friend; but against such a fate for Abel, was his own relationship to the culprit, and the question whether Raymond would not suffer very far-reaching censure if he made no effort to come to the boy’s rescue.  Truest wisdom might hold a severe course of correction very desirable; but sentiment and public opinion would be likely to condemn him if he did nothing.  People would say that he had taken a harsh revenge on his own, erring child.