He knew that his father had not "happened" to run
into him; he knew that Sheridan had instantly--and instinctively--
proved that he held his own life of no account whatever compared
to that of his son and heir. Bibbs had been unable to speak of
that, or to seem to know it; for Sheridan, just as instinctively,
had swept the matter aside--as of no importance, since all was well
--reverting immediately to business.
Bibbs began to think intently of his father. He perceived, as he
had never perceived before, the shadowing of something enormous and
indomitable--and lawless; not to be daunted by the will of nature's
very self; laughing at the lightning and at wounds and mutilation;
conquering, irresistible--and blindly noble. For the first time in
his life Bibbs began to understand the meaning of being truly this
man's son.
He would be the more truly his son henceforth, though, as Sheridan
said, Bibbs had not come down-town with him meanly or half-heartedly.
He had given his word because he had wanted the money, simply, for
Mary Vertrees in her need. And he shivered with horror of himself,
thinking how he had gone to her to offer it, asking her to marry him
--with his head on his breast in shameful fear that she would accept
him! He had not known her; the knowing had lost her to him, and
this had been his real awakening; for he knew now how deep had been
that slumber wherein he dreamily celebrated the superiority of
"friendship"! The sleep-walker had wakened to bitter knowledge
of love and life, finding himself a failure in both.
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