"Oh!" Bernard sprang to his feet with blazing eyes. "Mark!"
The lawyer rose. "Keep your temper. I didn't intend to tell you, knowing how you would receive the news."
"Does this woman dare to say that I am a—a——"
"Bernard, sit down," said Durham, and literally forced the impetuous boy back into his chair. "Behave like a civilized being. Mrs. Gilroy claims to be your father's first wife."
"But if she lives, and if what she says is true, my mother—I—oh—I could kill this woman."
"Gore," said the lawyer, seriously, "don't talk like this; remember what trouble you are now in owing to your former rash words."
"Yes! Yes!" Bernard struck his forehead hard. "I know—I am a fool. I didn't mean—Mark!"—he started up despite the other's efforts to keep him down—"do you believe this?"
"No," said Durham, promptly, "I don't. If Mrs. Gilroy was the real wife, she would not have kept silent so long. But I think she was deceived by a pretended marriage, and that Sir Simon, knowing this, helped her. I always wondered what was the bond between them. Now I know. Your father deceived the woman."
"But why do you think she had anything to do with my father at all, Mark? The whole story may be trumped up."
"I am quite sure that her tale is true, save as to the marriage," was Durham's reply. "I don't say that she might not have been deceived with a pretended marriage, and that she thought all was right. But she is not the real wife. Your mother, born Tolomeo is, and you are legitimately Sir Bernard Gore."