“Let me get at him! The thief, who married a rich widow only to rob and desert her! The bigamist, who, having a living wife, tried to deceive and marry a wealthy, betrothed maiden, only to rob and ruin her! The forger, who invented and published a false account of his own death that he might entrap his victim into another marriage, and take a mean revenge by coming here with pretended claims to stop it! Oh! but he shall die for this!” roared the youth, foaming with rage and struggling fiercely to free himself.
“Le! Le! be quiet, I say! You are stark, staring mad!” exclaimed Abel Force, holding the young man fast, though it took all his strength to do it.
He might as well have talked to a cyclone.
“This felon!” thundered the youth—“this felon, who has broken every law of God and man! This felon, I say, who should have been in the State prison twenty years ago, serving out a life term! And you see him with my wife in his arms, and you will not let me go! Oh!”
Here Mrs. Force, commanding herself by a great effort, went up to where Col. Anglesea stood holding Odalite to his bosom, and clasped her hands, raised her eyes to him, and pleaded:
“Oh! for dear mercy’s sake, give me my poor child! Don’t you see that she is fainting, dying?”
Somewhat to her surprise, Anglesea placed Odalite in her arms, saying, lightly:
“So that you do not take her out of the room! You know that she is my wife! And——”
“Edward Grandiere! Be kind enough to step and bring in a policeman—two of them, if possible,” said Mr. Force, who had all he could do to hold Leonidas.
“Uncle! uncle! I don’t want to hurt you, but, by my soul, if you don’t let me go, I shall be compelled to hurt you!” exclaimed the maddened and writhing youth.