CHAPTER V.
GOOD-BYE.
“Since there’s no help, come, let us kiss and part.”
“‘Not my pain.
My pain was nothing; oh, your poor, poor love,
Your broken love!’”
There was dead silence for some seconds, Uncle Dominick was the first to break it.
“You married her?” he said slowly, the words falling from his lips like drops of acid. “You mean to say she is your wife?”
Willy nodded stubbornly.
My uncle stood looking at him, the blood mounting in dark waves to his pale face, till I should scarcely have known him. He made a stammering attempt to speak, and moved some steps forward towards Willy, groping with his hands in front of him as if he were blind, before the words came.
“Leave the house!” he gasped, in a high, shrill voice—“leave the house!”—swaying as if shaken by the passion that filled him—“you infernal, lying scoundrel, or I will kick you out like a dog!”
He stopped again to take breath, but recovering himself caught at the collar of Willy’s coat as if to put his threat into execution.
“You needn’t trouble yourself,” said Willy, raising his arm and retreating before his father’s onslaught. “You’ve seen pretty nearly the last of me now; but, whether you like it or no, I’m going to stay here for to-night.”