There was one word in this speech that Leicester seized upon. "Your child, Ada. Great Heaven! would you exclude me from all share even in the love of our child!"
Even this did not soften her, though she was fearfully moved at the mention of her lost infant. He saw this, and his manner instantly changed.
"Why should I plead with you—why waste words thus?" he said, casting aside all affectation of tenderness:—"you are my wife—lawfully married—the mother of my child. If you have property, by the laws of this land that property is mine! I plead no longer, madam! Being the master of this house, if it is yours, my province is to command. Tell me, then! this wealth—for which people give their idol, Mrs. Gordon, so much credit—this mansion; are they real?—are they yours?—and therefore mine?"
The scorn that broke over Ada's face was absolutely sublime.
"Yes," she said, "this wealth is mine, yours, if the law makes it so; but listen—then say if you will use it!"
She bent forward; her lips and cheek were pale as death, but across the snow of her forehead a crimson flush came and went, like an arrow shooting back and again.
"You asked me that night in the room above, if I had lived in Europe as the governess of that man's daughter—the governess only—I answered yes; a governess only. It was false! Every dollar of the millions I possess comes from this man; he bequeathed them on his death-bed, that I might not again become your slave!" The haughty air gave way as she uttered this confession; her limbs trembled so violently that she was obliged to lean on the mantel-piece to keep from sinking to the floor. Pride, that treacherous demon, left her then, helpless as a child.
"This," said Leicester, with a stern, clear enunciation, "this in no way interferes with my claim on the property. Were it double, that would be poor atonement for the outrage to my affections—the disgrace brought upon my name."
She did not speak, but listened in breathless silence, trying to comprehend the moral enormity before her, with a confused sense that even yet she had not fathomed the black depths of his heart.
Leicester had paused, thinking that she would answer; but as she remained silent he spoke again, still calmly, and with measured intonation.