“Father, will you not accompany me to the house, and see my mother?”
“Never!” exclaimed Hollis Elverton, while a spasm of unutterable anguish convulsed his fine face.
“Alas, sir, if not to see her, what motive has brought you back to England?”
“Two of the strongest that can ever govern human action—the love of one I love, the hate of one I hate! I come to watch over and save an angel girl from utter ruin, and to hunt a demon woman to her doom!”
“Your words are strange and alarming, my father.”
“And I can give you no explanation of them now; I am even here in secret. I must see you only in secret, and you must give me your word of honor never to mention this meeting, or even mention the fact of my return to England.”
“Not even to my mother?”
“Not even to her; least of all to her!”
“Alas, alas, my father, do you hate her so?”
“Hate her?—hate your mother?—hate Athenie?—hate my—oh, Heaven, Alma!—no, I do not hate her; on the contrary—”