"Arthur Butler scorns a falsehood, father, with the deepest scorn that belongs to a noble mind, and would resent the charge with the spirit of a valiant and virtuous man. If Mr. Tyrrel has such accusations to make, it would be fitter they should be made face to face with the man he would slander, than in my father's ear. But it is the nature of the serpent to sting in the grass, not openly to encounter his victim."
"The first duty of a trusty friend is to give warning of the approach of an enemy—and that has Tyrrel done. For this act of service does he deserve your rebuke? Could you expect aught else of an honorable gentleman? Shame on you, daughter!"
"Father, I know the tale to be wickedly, atrociously false. Arthur Butler is not your enemy. Sooner would he lay down his life than even indulge a thought of harm to you. His coming hither was not unknown to me—his delay, but one brief night; business of great moment called him hastily towards the army of the south."
"You speak like a girl, Mildred. I have, against this tale, the avowal of a loyal and brave soldier. Aye, and let me tell you—favorably as you may deem of this false and traitorous rebel—his wily arts have been foiled, and quick vengeance is now upon his path—his doom is fixed."
"For heaven's sake, father, dear father, tell me what this means. Have you heard of Arthur?" cried Mildred, in the most impassioned accents of distress, at the same time throwing her head upon Lindsay's breast. "Oh, God! have you heard aught of harm to him?"
"Girl! foolish, mad, self-willed girl!" exclaimed Lindsay, disengaging himself from his daughter, and rising from his seat and angrily striding a few paces upon the terrace. "Dare you show this contumacy to me! No, I did not mean that—have you the heart, Mildred, to indulge these passionate fervors for the man I hate more than I can hate any other living thing! He, a wretch, upon whose head I invoke nightly curses! A loathsome, abhorred image to my mind! Hear me, Mildred, and hear me, though your heart break while I utter it—May the felon's death whelm him and his name in eternal disgrace!—may his present captivity be beset with all the horrors of friendlessness, unpitied—"
"His captivity, father! And has he then fallen into the hands of the enemy? Quick! tell me all!—I shall die—my life is wrapped up in his!" ejaculated Mildred, in agony, as she sprang towards her father and seized his arm, and then sank at his feet.
"For God's sake, my child!" said Lindsay, becoming alarmed at the violence of the paroxysm he had excited, and now lifting his daughter from the ground. "Mildred!—speak, girl! This emotion will drive me mad. Oh, fate, fate!—how unerringly dost thou fulfil the sad predictions of my spirit! How darkly does the curse hang upon my household! Mildred, dear daughter, pardon my rash speech. I would not harm thee, child—no, not for worlds!"
"Father, you have cruelly tortured my soul," said Mildred, reviving from the half lifeless state into which she had fallen, and which for some moments had denied her speech. "Tell me all; on my knees, father, I implore you."
"It was a hasty word, daughter," replied Lindsay, ill concealing the perturbation of his feelings; "I meant not what I said."