"Yes," said Edgar, "only I feel bound to say that no antidote would have saved him then. I know the poison and I know the antidote; we have tested them together often."
Frank shuddered.
"He had the heart of a demon," declared Edgar, "to plan and carry out such a revenge, even upon a daughter who had so grievously disappointed him. I can hardly believe the tale, only that I have learned that one may believe anything of human nature."
"She—she did not kill him, then?"
"No, but her guilt is as great as if she had, for she must have had the momentary instinct of murder."
"O Hermione, Hermione! so beautiful and so unhappy!"
"A momentary instinct, which she is expiating fearfully. No wonder she does not leave the house. No wonder that her face looks like a tragic mask."
"No one seems to have suspected her guilt, or even his. We have never heard any whispers about poison."
"Dudgeon is a conceited fool. Having once said overwork, he would stick to overwork. Besides that poison is very subtle; I would have difficulty in detecting its workings myself."
"And this is the tragedy of that home! Oh, how much worse, how much more fearful than any I have attributed to it!"