"Oh, this is infernal!" groaned Barnhurst, dropping his hands helplessly on his knees, while his head sank back against the chair, "Have you no mercy?"
"A preacher appeared as a demi-god, to the eyes of a sinless girl,—clad in the light of religion, he appeared to her as something more than mortal—aware of this fact, he passed from the pulpit where she heard him preach to her father's home, and there dishonored her. When her dishonor was complete, and a second life throbbed within her, so far from thinking of hiding her shame under the mantle of an honorable marriage, he calmly plotted the murder of his victim and her unborn child. And this preacher now crouches before his executioner, and falters, 'Have you no mercy?'"
"But I could not marry her," groaned Barnhurst, "it was impossible! impossible!"
"Why?"
Barnhurst buried his face in his hands, but did not answer.
"You killed her to save your reputation," whispered Arthur, "and now I have your life and reputation in my grasp. In the name of Alice, I will use my power. Come! Let us be going. I am ready to attend you."
He took the hat and cloak of the clergyman, from a chair, (where Barnhurst had left them before he ascended to the chamber of Alice) and exclaimed with a low bow—
"Your hat and cloak, sir. I am ready."
Barnhurst rose, trembling and livid,—he placed the hat upon his sleeked hair, and wound the cloak about his angular form. For a moment his coward nature seemed stirred, by the extremity of his despair, into something like courage. His eyes (the dark pupils of which you will remember covered each eyeball) flashed madly from his blonde visage, and he gazed from side to side, as if in search of some deadly weapon. At that moment he was prepared for combat and for murder.
Dermoyne caught his eye: never lunatic cowered at the sight of his keeper, as Barnhurst before Dermoyne.