“I am resolved,” said Gideon. “Either relinquish her or I tell her all. The decision is in your hands. I do not doubt you will seize your happiness, even at the cost of her shame.”
“Then you wrong me,” said Jack. “Rather than she should know the shadow which hangs on her life I relinquish her.”
A light gleamed in Stephen’s eyes, and his lips twitched.
“This I do,” continued Jack, in a voice so low and broken that it scarcely reached them, “placing implicit trust in your assertion that she is—as you state.”
He drew a long breath.
“I dare not risk it; but if in the future I should find that you have played me false—if, I say, this should prove a lie, then I tell you beware, for, as there is a Heaven above us, I will take my vengeance.”
“So be it,” said Gideon Rolfe, grimly. “Now write,” and he pointed to a bureau on which stood pen and paper, as if prepared for use.
Jack started.
“You will not take my word?” he said, bitterly.
Gideon Rolfe hesitated; but, at a glance from Stephen, said: