“A cab, immediately!” he said, as the waiter appeared.
“And now, Everage,” he continued, when they were left alone together again, “now tell me what could possibly have caused you to have my child carried off. Do you know his loss has nearly broken his mother’s heart?”
“Do I not know it? Have I not felt it? felt it day and night since the devil deluded me into doing this deed? Lord Killcrichtoun, look at me! See the wreck remorse has made of me! No sooner had I done this deed than remorse, like a consuming fire, than which the fires of Hell cannot be fiercer, entered my heart and burned my life away to this.”
“Burned your guilt away, Everage, but not your life.”
“This agony of remorse I would not have borne for a week, but for my wife’s critical condition.”
“But she must have been very much distressed by the change in you.”
“She was; but she ascribed it all to overwork in the school. And I soothed her by saying that after her confinement I should leave the school. I did not tell her, for the Old Bailey.”
“Hush, Everage, there will be nothing of that sort. But you have not yet told me what it was that tempted you to load thus your conscience.”
“I will tell you all—I will keep nothing back, and then you can do as you please.”
But, before he could say another word, the waiter opened the door, and announced the cab that had been ordered.