"I saw his name in the list of passengers, and I knew that he had come on with you as your private counselor."
"Yes, he did, at a vast sacrifice of his business; but then I never knew Worth to shrink from any self-sacrifice."
"What is his advice?" asked Claudia, in a low voice.
"He does more than advise; in this matter he dictates—I had almost said he commands; at least he insists that the divorce suit shall not be permitted to come on; that it shall be stopped by the arrest of Lord Vincent upon criminal charges that we shall be able to prove upon him. And that after the conviction of the viscount you shall bring suit for a divorce from him; for that it would not be well that your fate should remain linked to that of a felon."
"Then, papa, let it be as Mr. Worth says; and if the prosecution should place the viscount on the scaffold—let it place him there."
"It will not go so far as that, my dear—not in this century. If he had lived in the last century, and amused himself as he has done in this, he would have swung for it, that is certain."
"Papa, what is it that you have found out about him? Was he implicated in the death of poor Ailsie Dunbar? And, if so, how did you find it out? Tell me."
"My dearest, we have both much to tell each other. But I wish to hear your story first. Remember, Claudia, those alarming letters you sent me were very meager in their details. Tell me everything, my child; everything from the time you left me until the time you met me again."
"Papa, dear, it is a long, grievous, terrible story. I do not know how you will bear it. You are sensitive, excitable, impetuous. I scarcely dare to tell you. I fear to see how you will bear it. I dread its effects upon you."
"Claudia, my dearest, conceal nothing; tell me all; and I promise to restrain my emotions and listen to you calmly."