“Now, my dear boy, I know you believe in my friendship; will you permit me to investigate this affair for you, and undertake to give the facts proper consideration before you take further action?”
“I will,” said Paul, “provided that in all you do you respect her feelings, and remember that I love this woman better than all the world.”
Mr. Williamson shrugged his shoulders.
“I love her better than all the world, and I only consent to this active interference because I know she will come out of the inquiry clear. The idea of her being Gibbs’s wife is absurd,” Paul went on.
“But supposing it is true?” said the barrister.
“I will suppose nothing. Why do you try to bring unhappiness between us? In less than a month we should have been on the sea to begin a new life in a new country—turning our backs upon the past.”
“And upon your friends,” said the barrister. “You would be leaving father and mother and sister and friends in the society of an abandoned woman.”
“Mr. Williamson,” exclaimed Paul, “I will not stand this!”
“In the society of an abandoned woman,” repeated the barrister, “not like those poor people in the picture ‘Seeking New Homes,’ with the association of pure affection and honest noble aims of independence. Your whole life would have been blighted, your family disgraced, and yourself a miserable man.”
“I will not get into a passion with you,” said Paul, “but I cannot stand this, so good-night;” and before the barrister had time to intercept him, Paul rushed out of the room and hurried away into the street.