"There cannot be much of a legal penalty," said Cynthia, trying to speak bravely. "It was a duel."
"Manslaughter, I suppose. It will depend a good deal on public feeling what the punishment will be; and public feeling will—very rightly—be against me. To let another man be condemned to death when I could have cleared him with a word! I think, Cynthia, that the mob will tear me to pieces if they can get hold of me!"
"They will not get hold of you. And if the public knows that it was all for your sister's sake——"
"I want to save Flossy, Cynthia. I think I can shield her still."
"I do not think that my father will shield her, Hubert. He knows."
"She must be shielded, if possible, dear, for the old General's sake. What a fool I was not to prevent that marriage! Well, it can't be helped now. But one thing I can do—I can exonerate your father, and confess that I shot Sydney Vane, without a word about my sister. That must be so, Cynthia. And your father must be silent."
"You will deprive yourself of your one excuse," said Cynthia quietly.
"I know. I cannot help it. I must stand forth to the world as a brutal murderer—as once your father did, my Cynthia. It is only right and just. They must sentence me as they please. But it will not be for long; I shall probably not come out of prison. But, if I do——"
Cynthia burst into tears.
"I can't bear it—I can't bear it!" she cried. "My father is right—he has got over the worst of it and outlived all that was hard. It would be terrible for you! How could you bear it—and how could I?"