"No, Lina, I will not leave you in this unhappy condition," he said; "your words have shocked me beyond everything; nothing but your own avowal would have convinced me that one so good as you were, Lina, could have—have—oh! Lina, Lina, this is terrible."
"I know it," she answered faintly, "I know it, but we must be patient."
"Patient!" exclaimed the young man, "but if I can be nothing else, one thing is certain, I have the right of a wronged, outraged brother to protect you, this specious hypocrite shall answer for the ruin he has brought upon us all!"
Lina started up wildly, "Ralph, Ralph, of whom are you speaking?"
"Of the man who has wronged you, Lina—who has disgraced the name of Harrington, and who, so help me God! shall yet render you such justice as the case permits."
Lina gasped for breath, "you know it then—who told you, not my—not him?"
"No one told me, Lina: he is not so base as to boast of the ruin he has made; heaven forbid that one who has a drop of my blood in his veins should sink low enough for that; but the facts, your presence here, this cruel desertion of your friends, the insane tenacity with which you cling to this miserable fate—is it not enough?"
"Then he knows nothing—oh! thank God for that," gasped Lina, with a faint hysterical laugh.
"I know enough to justify me in demanding an explanation, and avenging you after it is made," said Ralph, sternly.
"No, not that, I charge you, Ralph Harrington, not to ask this explanation of any one. It will only deepen and widen the ruin that has so far fallen on me alone—promise me, Ralph, promise me, if you would not have me die before your eyes!"