“Harley, I deny it not. Cease here. I accept the penalty; I resign your friendship; I quit your roof; I submit to your contempt; I dare not implore your pardon. Cease; let me go hence, and soon!”
The strong man gasped for breath. Harley looked at him steadfastly, then turned away his eyes, and went on. “Nay,” said he, “is that ALL? You wooed her for yourself,—you won her. Account to me for that life which you wrenched from mine. You are silent. I will take on myself your task; you took that life and destroyed it.”
“Spare me, spare me!”
“What was the fate of her who seemed so fresh from heaven when these eyes beheld her last? A broken heart, a dishonoured name, an early doom, a forgotten gravestone!”
“No, no—forgotten,—no!”
“Not forgotten! Scarce a year passed, and you were married to another. I aided you to form those nuptials which secured your fortunes. You have had rank and power and fame. Peers call you the type of English gentlemen; priests hold you as a model of Christian honour. Strip the mask, Audley Egerton; let the world know you for what you are!”
Egerton raised his head, and folded his arms calmly; but he said, with a melancholy humility, “I bear all from you; it is just. Say on.”
“You took from me the heart of Nora Avenel. You abandoned her, you destroyed. And her memory cast no shadow over your daily sunshine; while over my thoughts, over my life—oh, Egerton—Audley, Audley—how could you have deceived me thus!” Here the inherent tenderness under all this hate, the fount imbedded under the hardening stone, broke out. Harley was ashamed of his weakness, and hurried on,
“Deceived,—not for an hour, a day, but through blighted youth, through listless manhood,—you suffered me to nurse the remorse that should have been your own; her life slain, mine wasted,—and shall neither of us have revenge?”
“Revenge! Ah, Harley, you have had it!”