“Because, then,” said Andrea, incapable of self-restraint under the sting of the serpent gnawing at her heart, “because your father is an infamous villain!”
He bounded up from the divan and stood before her.
“Do you say that of my father,” he cried, “of Dr. Gilbert, who brought me up and educated me, the only friend I ever knew? I am making a mistake—you are no mother of mine!”
She stopped him darting towards the door.
“Stay,” she said, “you cannot know, ought not understand, may not judge.”
“No; but I can feel, and I feel that I love you no more.”
She screamed with pain.
Simultaneously, a diversion was given to the emotion overwhelming her by the sound of a carriage coming up to the street doorway. Such a shudder ran over her that he thrilled in sympathy.
“Wait, and be silent,” she said so that he was subjugated.
“Who am I to announce?” she heard the old footman demand in the ante-room.