Mark returned, with looks of interest.
“I did not mean to—to wrong her! God knows I did not!” said the old man, in a quivering tone.
“Wrong whom?” added Mark, regarding him with much surprise and anxiety; “sir, sir, you are really ill, and I must summon some assistance.”
“No, no! you are mistaken. Bring no witnesses. It is—it is—a family affair. Now, I suppose, you will have your revenge!” exclaimed Clement Sutherland, with a frightened, chattering smile.
Without more ado, Mark hastened to the door, with the purpose of sending for a physician. But the old man sprang, tottered after him, and clasped him around, staggered back, exclaiming—“You shall not! I’ll have no witnesses. Oh! you’re a lawyer!”
Mark Sutherland disengaged himself, sat his uncle down in a chair, and stood for a moment undecided how to proceed—vague suspicions crossing his mind for the first time, as he heard his wild words, and recollected Mr. Bolling’s ominous doubts.
“Yes, look!” exclaimed the distracted culprit, who had quite lost his self-possession, “look! and consider what you will do! It will be a fine revenge, for old and new, to cast the white-haired man into a State-prison, won’t it? Now, hark ye! No dishonour can crush me that will not touch you! Remember that!”
Mark Sutherland went to a sideboard, poured out a glass of water, and brought it to his uncle, who took it in his trembling hand and quaffed it off, and returned the empty glass, all mechanically, and without a word of acknowledgment. Mark Sutherland put down the glass, and then returned and took his seat beside the guilty man, saying calmly, and with some reserve—
“Now, sir, it were best for all parties concerned, that you should put me in possession of the facts of this case.”
“And criminate myself! Ha! that’s a lawyer’s trick, to lead me into such a folly. But I’m cool, I’m collected, I’m not going to do it.”