Be satisfied, Madam, you shall soon be rid of this fatal—hated—betrayed—abandoned wretch! he spoke this with his hands grasped eagerly together, and his eyes lifted up to heaven. Then striking his breast, he burst into tears, and rushing suddenly into his closet, he shut the door violently, locking it on the inside.
He wept aloud, and his agonies reduced me almost to the same condition with himself.
I begged my brother would endeavour to prevail on him to open the door, for I was fearful of his making some dreadful attempt upon his own life; but Sir George a little quieted my fears, by shewing me his sword, which still lay on the table, and which, at my desire, he put out of the way.
My brother approached the closet door, and in the most soothing language beseeched him to open it; but he could get no other answer from Mr Faulkland than to beg he would leave him to himself.
I found this was not a time for arguing. I told my brother, we had better suffer him to vent his passion alone, and that, perhaps, when he had time to reflect a little on what had been said, he would permit his cooler reason to govern him.
Sir George was very unwilling to leave him in such a distracted state of mind; he renewed his efforts to persuade him to come out of the closet, but to no purpose.
I beseech you to leave me, Sir George, said he, I am not in a condition to talk—I cannot bear the sight of Mrs Arnold—let me recover myself—another time perhaps I may be better able to discourse with you.
Will you promise me then, replied my brother, that you will in the interim do nothing that may be injurious to your life or health? Indeed, my dear Faulkland, you distress my sister and me more than you can imagine. Name the hour when you will permit me to come to you again; and for heaven’s sake think of your own immediate preservation: that once secured, there is nothing which my sister and I will not afterwards do to make you happy—Can I rely on you, Faulkland? do you promise me not to be rash? You have my sword in your possession, answered Mr Faulkland, (still speaking within the closet) I have no other weapon about me—leave me, Sir George—I cannot talk.
Say but that you wish to see me again, replied my brother, and I will go, and give you no further trouble. Mr Faulkland sighed deeply. Say, I wish to see you! he repeated, ah, Bidulph! and his voice seemed choaked. My brother could not refrain from tears. I will come to you in the evening, Faulkland—You will find me your true friend.—I should be loath to lay you under any restraint here, in the house of my friend; do but say there is no need of it. Promise me—the slightest word will suffice. I know my dear Faulkland will not break his word.
Well—I will not attempt my life, cried he impatiently, let that satisfy you—leave me, and let me not be exposed to any insults here.