Clay Legg burst into a low, cynical laugh.
“Don’t let us be tragic, whatever we are, Lyddy. It is a pity you have been such a fool as to be so easily taken in. A greater pity that you should have brought discredit on your family. But you are not the first woman who has ever been fooled and laughed at. But as for me getting into a broil with the fellow on your account—no, thank you! It would be unbecoming to the cloth, and get me into trouble with the bishop. And as to killing him! Do you really think I propose to do murder and get myself hanged for your folly? No, thank you, I say again! You had better go and hide yourself down in the greengrocer’s shop at Medge along with papa and stepmamma, while I shall leave the country where my sister’s conduct has made it impossible for me to hold up my head and look honorable men in the face.”
While this brutal brother spoke his sister stood before him pallid, staring and biting her lip until the blood flowed.
“Shame on you, dastard, to speak to the unhappy girl in such a manner! Leave the room, sir!” said John Legg, rising and opening the library door.
“I did not want to come in here at first, and I am very glad to get out,” retorted Clay Legg, with an insulting laugh, as he walked off.
John Legg shut the door after him and then turned to his miserable daughter. She had thrown herself down on a sofa, where she lay with her face in her hands.
He kneeled beside her and laid his hand on her head, murmuring softly:
“You must content yourself with our love and our poor home. These are yours forever. You have tried other love and found it fail you. Paternal love never fails,” he continued, and while he spoke he did not cease to smooth and caress her head with his hand.
“And to think,” she moaned in a muffled voice, with her face downward and hidden with her hands; “to think it was his deserted wife that I shopped for in the last days before my marriage with him—that it was his deserted wife with her child—his child—that came over in the same steamer with him and myself on our bridal trip! Ah! now I know why he got off the ship at Queenstown! It was to get out of her sight and to avoid encountering her father who was to meet her at Liverpool. She was his lawful wife, and knew it, and she knew then that I was—what was I?—what am I? Oh! I shall go mad! mad! mad!” she shrieked, flinging off her fathers hand, springing from the sofa, clasping her head between her palms and walking wildly up and down the floor.
“My dear, dear child, don’t go on like this! Come and sit down. Try to compose yourself,” pleaded poor John Legg, walking after his daughter.