"Stop, Mr. Murray! You must not, shall not use such language in my presence concerning one whom I love and revere above all other human beings! How dare you malign that noble Christian, whose lips daily lift your name to God, praying for pardon and for peace? Oh! how ungrateful, how unworthy you are of his affection and his prayers!"
She had interrupted him with an imperious wave of her hand, and stood regarding him with an expression of indignation and detestation.
"I neither possess nor desire his affection or his prayers."
"Sir, you know that you do not deserve, but you most certainly have both."
"How did you obtain your information?"
"Accidentally, when he was so surprised and grieved to hear that you had started on your long voyage to Oceanica."
"He availed himself of that occasion to acquaint you with all my heinous sins, my youthful crimes and follies, my—"
"No, sir! he told me nothing, except that you no longer loved him as in your boyhood; that you had become estranged from him; and then he wept, and added, 'I love him still; I shall pray for him as long as I live.'"
"Impossible! You can not deceive me! In the depths of his heart he hates and curses me. Even a brooding dove—pshaw! Allan Hammond is but a man, and it would be unnatural—utterly impossible that he could still think kindly of his old pupil. Impossible!"
Mr. Murray rose and stood before the grate with his face averted, and his companion seized the opportunity to say in a low, determined tone: