"You couple his memory with bitter thoughts. Why spare the words? He was a cruel man, with an unfeeling heart."
"Hush! hush! He has gone where he will be judged."
"And where," said Mr. Rowe, in no way softened, "the spirits of Caroline and Edward rise in judgment against him. I am glad you feel as I do toward the man who destroyed the happiness of two young persons whose only fault was that they loved each other too well."
"You have made me," said Mr. Weston, with a heightened colour, "wander from my theme."
"You wandered from it yourself," retorted Mr. Rowe, "by mentioning the name of Stephen Viner."
"Were it not," said Mr. Weston, with marks of agitation in his face, "that we are old friends, I should think you had a design to irritate me."
"I have a design to speak plainly. If we can learn a lesson from the dead which it would be good to learn, it is worse than folly to reject it. The parallel is a strange one. Caroline Miller and Edward Blair are not the only young lovers who have been parted----"
"Stop, Rowe," interrupted Mr. Weston, in a tone of suppressed passion. "I desire that you will not continue the subject. It is unkind, cruel of you, and the conclusions you draw do me great injustice."
He again emptied his glass, and the next few moments were passed in silence.
"I beg your pardon," then said Mr. Rowe, more gently; "I was betrayed out of myself. You were speaking of Reuben Thorne."