“Do not swear—there is no need for that,” interrupted the gentle Aveline. “Give me your word and keep it—that is all I need.”
“I do give you my word. Oh, my lady, have pity on me! My only hope is in you. Remember that mercy is one of the most divine attributes which a woman or a man possesses. Think of my poor wife—of my family, and all who belong to me. You cannot find it in your heart to bring ruin and disgrace upon me and mine.”
“I am very sad, and cannot express to you my feeling of sorrow and the miserable state of dejection all this occasions me, dear,” said Lady Batershall, not taking any heed of Peace’s words, but addressing herself to her companion. “This man I knew years and years ago. At one time he was a respectable member of society—at least so I deemed him. Judge my horror at this night’s proceedings—a common robber, a ruffian! It is almost incredible.”
“It’s no use going on like that,” whined Peace. “You don’t know how I have been tempted—what troubles I am surrounded with. What’s the use of talking of the past, or saying what I was and what I am? Do you think I want to hear about my former life? It is over. I am as you see me just now, in the depths of trouble. If you can serve me, which I very well know you can—do it for old acquaintance sake. There, that’s plain enough, aint it?”
“Oh, you bad, wicked man!” exclaimed Lady Marvlynn; “but there, I won’t say any more upon that head.”
“Are you the mistress of this house?” inquired Peace.
“Yes, I am.”
“Very good; and do you intend to give me in charge? Say yes or no, that I may know what I am to expect.”
“For the sake of this dear lady, I will not give you in charge unless I am forced to do so.”
“Forced! Who is likely to force you?”