There was no reply.
“Tell Dana Lydon, the lady to whom you are engaged, that it is not true.”
Still there was no reply.
“Do you hear me, sir?” thundered Ralph Elthorne, and Neil took a step forward in alarm, as he saw the change in his father’s countenance, but the old man fiercely motioned him back.
“I am not a boy,” said Alison haughtily, “and I reserve to myself the right to marry whom I please.”
“That is not an answer, sir,” cried Elthorne sharply. “I say, is the charge true?”
“Ask me when we are alone, sir. I refuse to be cross-examined and treated like a school-boy before the Misses Lydon.”
Ralph Elthorne’s brow grew black with rage, and Neil again pressed forward till his father motioned him back.
“Father! for Heaven’s sake, be calm,” he whispered.
“Silence, sir!” roared Elthorne, whose aspect now was startling to those who watched him and trembled for the end. “I am fighting, weak as I am, for the honour of my house—for the honour of my two sons, to prove to these ladies that they have been tricked and cheated by a contemptible, false report. This obstinate fool refuses to clear himself, but you, my boy—my eldest son—you are a gentleman. You will not let any weak vanity prevent you from speaking out and proving to Saxa here—your betrothed—that a miserable, lying scandal has been set afoot. That you are not one—you, the student and man of reputation—to degrade yourself by stooping to a pitiful intrigue which would disgrace you and me in the eyes of your betrothed. Come, let us end this painful scene. Speak out, and then take my child Saxa’s hand, and she shall humble herself to you and ask your pardon for doubting you, as I know she will.”