“Now, as the parent of this child which I have seen develop to this point under my guidance and protection, I stand here prepared to fight for its honor against you who threaten its destruction—­and I warn you that the parent love dares much.  As the Roman Virginius stood with his sword pricking the flesh over the heart of his beloved daughter, so do I stand ready to destroy my offspring rather than suffer its dishonor at the hands of any Appius Claudius.  Gentlemen, the Consolidated Companies has been a one-man corporation in the past through your sufferance; from to-day, if it exist at all, it shall be a one-man corporation because of my will.  You know that these are no idle words.  You know what would be the result of a single statement from me that the Companies repudiates its assumed responsibilities.  I do not ask—­I demand that you gentlemen, as the Executive Committee of the corporation, pass such resolutions as will place the authority absolutely in my hands.  I ask Mr. Litchfield to take the chair, while I retire to give you ample opportunity for discussion.  However hard it may be for your personal pride, you will have to do this—­you have too much at stake to gratify your resentment of my autocracy.  But if you can gain any consolation in the knowledge that you have dealt your president a blow from which it will take long for him to recover, I beg of you to make the most of it.  I believed that power was the supreme lever with which to move the world, and that money was but the fulcrum upon which that lever should rest.  You gentlemen have shattered this belief, and have shown me that sordid gold is the controlling object of man’s life.  Still, I prefer to remain in my Utopia, alone if need be, but with your unwilling company so long as my present strength shall last.”

Gorham closed his eyes involuntarily as he ceased speaking, still standing before his associates.  A single tremor passed over his face, and then it was as impassive as before.  With a bow as courteous as it was impressive, he left the room.

XXII

When Covington entered Gorham’s office an hour later he found his chief bowed forward on his desk, his head resting upon his hands.  As the door closed the older man raised his eyes, and the change in his face caused Covington to stop in surprise.  The usual color was replaced by a dull, ashen gray, the lines had deepened, and the general aspect was that of a man ten years older.

“Everything is all right, Mr. Gorham,” Covington remarked, encouragingly.  “They passed the resolutions you demanded.”

“John.”

It was the first time Gorham had ever addressed him by his Christian name, and this fact, together with the tone in which it was spoken, aroused a novel sensation in the younger man.  He took the outstretched hand, and accepted the friendly pressure, conscious of a feeling not altogether pleasant.

“John,” Gorham repeated, “you and I are the only ones who can save the Companies to its stockholders.  We have a tremendous responsibility thrust upon us.”