He stretched his hand. But, drawing back, the latter turned a red glance upon him.
“And you let me believe her dead that morning—that morning! I could have saved her!” He flung his arms in the air and shook them; a terrible menace on his face.
“God!” he called, “God—!”
Rockhurst gave a loud cry:—
“My son, do not curse your father!”
The young man’s arms dropped by his side. He looked at the bent white head, at the countenance worn, wan, patient; then he cast himself upon his father’s breast, sobbing:—
“God help us all!”
Harry gave a deep groan, covered his face with his hands, and fell upon the bench.