Then she attacked him on another quarter. “Have you written to her since you behaved like a ruffian to her?”
“No. And I never will, come what may. It is wicked of me; but I hate her. I am compelled to esteem her. But I hate her.”
Zoe could quite understand that; but in spite of that she said, “Of course you do. Men always hate those they have used ill. Why did you not write to me? Had a mind to be impartial, I suppose?”
“I had reason to believe it would have been intercepted.”
“For shame! Vizard is incapable of such a thing.”
“Ah, you don't know how he is changed. He looks on me as a mad dog. Consider, Zoe: do, pray, take the real key to it all. He is in love with Mademoiselle Klosking, madly in love with her: and I have been so unfortunate as to injure her—nearly to kill her. I dare say he thinks it is on your account he hates me; but men deceive themselves. It is for her he hates me.”
“Oh!”
“Ay. Think for a moment, and you will see it is. You are not in his confidence. I am sure he has never told you that he ordered his keepers to shoot me down if I came about the house at night.”
“Oh no, no!” cried Zoe.
“Do you know he has raised the country against me, and has warrants out against me for forgery, because I was taken in by a rogue who gave me bills with sham names on them, and I got Vizard to cash them? As soon as we found out how I had been tricked, my uncle and I offered at once to pay him back his money. But no! he prefers to keep the bills as a weapon.”