“No,” said Everage, dropping back in his chair and covering his face. “No, not mad now: but I was mad then, when I caused the child to be carried off! I was mad blind, and Heaven-forsaken!”
“Not Heaven-forsaken, Everage, or you would not have been brought to this confession. But is this really true? You caused the child to be carried off? You said the reparation was still in your power!—that means the child still lives! Where is he? Is he in London? Is he in our reach? Is he well?” inquired Alexander scarcely able to control the violence of his emotions—his strangely mingled and warring emotions—of astonishment, indignation, ecstasy and impatience.
“Yes, to all your questions,” answered Everage, dropping his face into his hands.
“But, good Heaven, what possible motive could you have had for carrying off my child? You must have been mad!”
“I was! I was, my lord! mad and blind and God-forsaken! I was tempted beyond——”
“Stop, Everage! don’t tell me just now. I must see my boy immediately. Can you take me to him now?”
“Yes,” answered the poor gentleman, in an almost inaudible voice.
“How far is it?” asked Alexander, with his hand upon the bell.
“About two miles from here,” breathed Everage.
“Then we must have a carriage,” observed Alexander, ringing the bell.