Mrs. Slingsby became as pale as death, and sate gazing with haggard eyes upon her nephew—unable to avert her glance, and yet shrinking from his.
"Then you are guilty, madam," he said, after a few moments' pause; "and the excellent—the virtuous—the upright Sir Henry Courtenay is your lover! My God! did the world ever know hypocrisy so abominable—so black as this?"
These words were uttered with extreme bitterness—and Mrs. Slingsby burst into a flood of tears, while she covered her face with her hands.
Clarence possessed a generous heart; and this sight moved him.
"My dear aunt," he said, "I do not wish to mortify you—much less to humiliate you in my presence. In your own estimation you must necessarily be humiliated enough. Neither will I dwell at any length upon the pain—the intense grief which I experience in finding you so different from what I have ever believed you to be—until now!" he added, in a mournful tone. "Were you my sister, or did you stand with reference to me in a degree of relationship that would permit me to remonstrate and advise, I should perhaps both reproach and counsel you. But it would ill become a nephew to address his aunt in such a manner."
"Clarence, will you expose me? will you ruin me?" demanded Mrs. Slingsby, in a hysterical tone.
"Not for worlds would I injure you!" ejaculated the young man. "But I must receive no more favours at your hands! Here—take back the money which you gave me a few days ago. Thank God! I have not yet expended any of it—and the arrangements I had made to furnish a house for the reception of my Adelais, can be countermanded. She will not object to share a lodging with me—until, by my own honest exertions," he added proudly, "I may be able to give her a suitable home."
And, as he spoke, he cast a roll of Bank-notes upon the table.
"Oh! Clarence—if I have been weak—frail—culpable," cried the widow, "you are at least severe and cruel; for I have ever done all I could to serve your interests."
