"Ay," he cried, "and there it is! Love! Like a son! And how do you think I love my father ?" "Quietly, quietly," says my lord.
"I will be very quiet," replied Archie.

"And I will be baldly frank.

I do not love my father; I wonder sometimes if I do not hate him.

There's my shame; perhaps my sin; at least, and in the sight of God, not my fault.

How was I to love him?
He has never spoken to me, never smiled upon me; I do not think he ever touched me.