He stretched out his hand with a motion of great relief. “I was afraid you were going to speak to-night—to tell all, even though I was your brother. You spared me for the sake—”
“For the sake of the family name,” the other interjected stonily.
“For the sake of our name. But I would have taken my punishment, in thankfulness, because you are alive.”
“Taken it like a man, your Excellency,” was the low rejoinder. He laughed bitterly.
“You will not wipe the thing out, Tom? You will not wipe it out, and come back, and take your own—now?” said the other anxiously.
The other dried the perspiration from his forehead. “I will come back in my own time; and it can never be wiped out. For you shook all my faith in my old world. That’s the worst thing that can happen a man. I only believe in the very common people now—those who are not put upon their honour. One doesn’t expect it of them, and, unlikely as it is, one isn’t often deceived. I think we’d better talk no more about it.”
“You mean I had better go.”
“I think so. I am going to marry soon.” The other started nervously.
“You needn’t be so shocked. I will come back one day, but not till your wife dies, or you have a child, as I said.”
The Governor rose to his feet, and went to the door. “Whom do you intend marrying?” he asked in a voice far from vice-regal, only humbled and disturbed. The reply was instant and keen: “A bar-maid.”