"I owe my life to you and your son," he said, slowly. "Would to God it had been to any other man!"
"You speak well," my father answered. "You owe your life to the man whose life you have made a living hell. Strange things have happened, but none stranger than this! Why, I have prayed with a sinking heart, Rupert Devereux, that if chance should bring us face to face I might not kill you. And I have saved your life. How came you here?"
"Bound to Palermo with a letter for Lord Parkhurst from England. They told me at Rome that he was here, so I followed."
There was a dead silence save for the hum of clamorous voices from the little group of brigands. My father's eyes were fixed upon Rupert Devereux's white, anguish-smitten face, full of stern expectation. But neither spoke for many minutes.
"I am waiting to hear what you have to say to me," my father said at last. "I have saved your life. 'Tis a deed which most men would deem deserving of reward. I ask no reward, but I demand justice of you, Rupert Devereux. For the long, weary years of my wasted life you can return me—nothing. But you can give me back my name to die under and to leave to my son. Speak."
Like a man who is torn asunder by a passionate indecision, Rupert Devereux hid his face in his hands, and rocked himself to and fro.
"Herbert," he moaned, "would to God you had let me die! Oh, how can I do this thing, how can I? It is not for myself I care, but for my son, for my daughter. They would never speak to me again. They would hate me."
"That they should do so would be a just punishment," was my father's stern reply. "You have built up your life upon a lie, and this is your reward. Rupert Devereux, I demand that you make a full confession, and restore to me my honour! If you have one single spark of conscience left, you cannot deny me. You shall not deny me!"
He turned away again and groaned. Almost I could have pitied him.
"I cannot do it. I cannot do it," he moaned. "Oh! think what it means! To cut myself off from life and the world. To make myself an object of contempt for all men. To forfeit everything that I have won. To endure the everlasting scorn of my children. Oh! Herbert, will you really ask me to do all this?"