“Then, Malcolm, meet it like a man!” said the lawyer, who began to understand that it was a mental, and not a physical agony that convulsed the strong frame of the young man.
“But she, Eudora, so young and beautiful, so innocent and so beloved, to be hurled down to a destruction so appalling!” burst in groans of anguish from the heaving breast of Malcolm.
He dropped his arms and head upon the table, while sobs of agony convulsed his great chest.
“But I will save her!” he said to himself. “In spite of all this, I will save her. I have staked my life, my soul and honor upon her innocence; and now I will peril that same life, soul, and honor for her deliverance!”
This mental resolution gave him great strength, for at once he resumed the command of himself, arose, apologized to the lawyer for the exhibition of emotion into which he had been betrayed, and would have resumed the conversation in a calmer frame of mind, had not a servant entered and announced supper.
Malcolm begged the lawyer to excuse him for not appearing at the supper table, and also requested him to bear his excuses to the magistrates who had assisted at the coroner’s inquest, and who now remained to supper.
The lawyer readily promised to represent Mr. Montrose to the guests, and withdrew for that purpose.
Malcolm arose and paced the library floor, engaged in close thought for about half an hour, and then passed out to seek the privacy of his own chamber.
The whole house was in a painful though subdued bustle.
The members of the coroner’s jury, though at liberty to go, had not yet dispersed. The strange fascination that spell-binds men to the scene of any atrocious crime or awful calamity, kept them lingering about the halls and chambers of Allworth Abbey.