“And this inheritance? Cora, too? Will you cast them both aside because it is Zana who offers them?”
He shook his head with a grave smile.
“The inheritance I can easily relinquish; it is not large enough to purchase a heart like mine, Zana.”
“George, George, reflect,” said Lady Catherine, who had been listening with keen anxiety; “the girl is beautiful; her mother’s family had noble blood in it.”
“Mother, hush; I will work, but not sell myself for your benefit.”
I arose, shocked by the deep hypocrisy of the man. His look, his voice, his words, how noble they were! His actions—the household traitor—how could he compel that face to look so firm and noble in its sin?
“Madam,” I said, turning to the mother, “persuade your son, for on no other terms can my father’s estate remain with you or yours.”
She bent her head, but did not speak. The woman seemed subdued; all her sarcastic spirit had left her. At last she laid her hand on Irving’s arm.
“George, George, remember there is no other way.”
He turned upon her, smiling.