"There can be no doubt of his death. Thirty years have elapsed, and were he in existence he must have been heard of. Twelve years afterwards my Frances died, leaving me two children, a son and infant daughter. God saw fit, in his providence, to take my boy, but left me Faith, to lay my grey hairs in the grave. It will not be long before she will do me that service."
Mr. Armstrong ceased speaking, and silence succeeded, which was at last broken by the Solitary. He bent his brows with a keen, searching glance upon his guest, and said:
"Thou wert false to thy brother."
"Yes, and his blood cries against me. Whither shall I turn to hide my guilt?"
"Thou dost repent, then, of thy treachery?" inquired Holden, who seemed determined to probe the wound to the bottom.
"Alas! restore to me the morning of life; place me in the same circumstances, and I should fall again. I should be irresistibly attracted by a heart that seemed made for mine."
"In her arms thou didst forget the brother, whom thy cruelty had doomed to the maniac's cell and chain?" said Holden.
"Never! his image is graven on my heart. I have never ceased to think of him."
"Thou wouldst know him should he stand before thee?"
"Know him! aye, amidst ten thousand. No years could make such changes as to hide him from me. But he is in his grave, while his murderer lives."