The more he looked at Lord Barkley, the more did the memory of his own Edmund knock at his heart and intercede for indulgence towards the errors of a loving nature, which weakness and over indulgence had led astray; and knowing his daughter's character as he did, he felt that it would be punishing him too severely to ask him to fulfil his engagement with her whilst his young heart yearned for one who was evidently not a statue. Nevertheless he could not but feel indignant at the manner in which his daughter had been treated, and at last he said, sternly—
"Lord Barkley, you were right when you said that your conduct had merited for you the misery of being married to one woman whilst you loved another, and if I believed that the breaking off of this marriage would cause my daughter a moment's deep pain, I should not hesitate to require you to fulfil your engagement; but she is not one who would allow herself to love any man until after he was her husband, and I know that I have only to tell her that from your own showing you were unworthy of her, and her self-respect will enable her to bear the separation without much regret. I will not, therefore, take upon myself to inflict upon you the fate which you deserve. You may, then, consider yourself released from the engagement, and I shall never say more than is necessary as to why this marriage was broken off; but you cannot object to my letting it be understood that it was your own conduct which caused it, and henceforth let us be as strangers to each other. For the sake of my dear lost boy, whose schoolfellow you were, rather than for that of the hardly true friend who urged you to treat us as you have done, have I been thus lenient to you, and I do not think that you could have asked more."
"I have asked more! God knows I had no right to expect such indulgence as you have shown me," answered Lord Barkley, raising his head, and Mr. Molyneux saw that his face was marked by traces of tears such as a man rarely sheds. After a moment's pause Lord Barkley resumed—
"Your reproaches I could have borne better than such forbearance,—it is indeed heaping coals of fire upon my head. I dare not hope that you will ever take my hand in friendship again, but whilst I live no son of your own could look upon you with deeper feelings of gratitude and respect than I do. Good-bye, and perhaps the spirit of your own lost son will plead for his weak, erring companion as it did to-day, and at last win back for him one ray of the old kindly feeling of former days."
Lord Barkley looked so dejected and humbled that Mr. Molyneux had not the heart to leave him thus coldly, and turning hastily round from the door, which he had almost reached, he grasped his hand, saying, "Good-bye, boy; I dare say you'll make as good a man as any of us after all."
He gave the hand which he held a cordial shake and then hastened out of the room.
CHAPTER XIII.
Lord Barkley being thus relieved from his engagement to Miss Molyneux, felt like a prisoner just set free, who rejoices in his newly-recovered freedom, although the remembrance of the acts which riveted the chains of bondage round his neck still fills his heart with shame and sorrow; and he set to work in earnest to try and make amends for all past self-indulgence and extravagance.