It seemed at first that the one bullet which had struck him had been aimed too truly; but after a few minutes the poor fellow opened his eyes, looked wildly round, and then recognised Linnell.
“Ah!” he ejaculated, “you! Look here. I was on the way—to give myself up—civil authorities—my father—in prison—innocent—Lady Teigne—murder—in a fit of drunkenness—I climbed up—to get the diamonds—save the poor old man—I—I—did the deed.”
Volume Three—Chapter Eighteen.
Morton Denville Becomes a Man.
“You here, Morton?”
“Yes. Don’t look at me like that, Claire, pray don’t. You can’t think what I’ve suffered.”
“What you’ve suffered?” said Claire coldly, as she recalled how she had taken a mother’s place to this boy for so many years till he had obtained his advancement in life, when he had turned from her. He had made some amends on the night of Mrs Pontardent’s party; but after that he had heard some whispered scandal, and had kept aloof more and more till the great trouble had fallen, and their father had been arrested, when he had stayed away and made no sign.
It had seemed so hard. When a few words on paper would have been so consolatory and have helped Claire in her agony and distress, Morton had not even written; and now he came to her at last to tell her she did not know what he had suffered.