"Yes, it is natural, Inglefield, and I will excuse much. But I must have plain answers to my questions, or I shall ask you nothing further."
[CHAPTER XL.]
The turn which this conversation had taken and the unexpected nature of the disclosures which Mr. Manners had made were, indeed, surprises for which Mark Inglefield could not possibly have been prepared. He had entered the house in a condition of mind which may be designated beatific. All his plans had prospered, and he had expected to hear from Mr. Manners a thoroughly satisfactory account of the interview between his patron and Mr. Hollingworth. The celebration of the contemplated union with Miss Hollingworth would have been the crowning triumph of all his scheming. From the day when he first instilled into Mr. Manners's ears the poisoned insinuations which were to effect the separation of father and son, success had attended him. Wary, cunning, and most painstaking in the early years of his association with Mr. Manners, he believed that he had so firmly established his position that there was no possibility of his being shaken from it. Gradually he had allowed himself to be lulled into a state of perfect security--to such an extent, indeed, that he no longer took pains to make himself more than ordinarily agreeable to the man upon whose word his future prospects depended. But now, in this startling manner, and at this unexpected time, the storm he had not foreseen burst upon him. He did not pause to consider that the Nemesis which threatened him was the outcome of his own evil, and that it sometimes happens that wrong-doers themselves forge bolts which destroy them. The idea of anything like justice or Providence did not occur to him. He was angry, but his conscience was not disturbed. His inherent and perfect selfishness led him straight to one incontrovertible view of the difficulty in which he found himself. He had enemies who, nettled and wroth at his approaching triumph, had suddenly banded themselves together for the purpose of trampling him in the dust. It was, therefore, a battle to the death between him and them, and, recognizing that this was the supreme moment in his career, he determined to stop at nothing which would avert defeat. In the heart of this determination there lurked a ruthlessness of spirit which would lead him to any extreme of crime and duplicity. For the unhappy girl whom he had brought to shame and ruin he felt not one spark of compassion; his own safety was his only consideration. As for Kingsley and Nansie, if a wish of his could have destroyed them it would have been breathed without compunction.
Between Mr. Manners's last words and his response there was not a moment's pause. Swift as lightning's flash his resolution was formed.
"I scarcely know, sir," he said, "how to convince you that I have no other desire than to satisfy you. I can only repeat what I have endeavored already to make clear, that you shall have plain and honest answers to everything you ask of me. But for all that, you must make some allowance for my natural feelings of surprise and indignation, that, after all these years, I find my integrity and honor doubted, and matters suddenly and strangely revived which I thought were settled long ago."
"I will make every reasonable allowance," said Mr. Manners. "At present, so far as you are concerned, I am animated by no other spirit than that of being strictly just towards you--even though finding that through some mischance I have drifted into error, I shall be compelled to deprive him who is nearest to my blood of the chief portion of his patrimony. I am ready to take upon myself the whole of the blame; but I must be satisfied that I have not been wilfully deceived."
"Deceived by whom, sir? By me?"
"By you," replied Mr. Manners, calmly. "You were the first to impart to me information concerning the lady my son Kingsley married. Your reports aggravated the feelings I entertained towards her because of the disappointment I experienced by my son marrying without my consent and approval. No other person spoke to me of her but yourself, nor did I seek information elsewhere. You cannot fail to remember the nature of the charges you brought against her."
"That is asking me a great deal," said Inglefield. "Do you expect me to remember faithfully every trifling detail of circumstances which I have not thought of for a long number of years?"
"I do not," said Mr. Manners, observing with displeasure that Mark Inglefield continued to fence with the most important issues of the conversation; "but the principal of them cannot have escaped your memory."