'And you don't any longer—there, 'tis all out,' broke in Devereux, fiercely.
'Well, you know her answer; it was not lightly given, nor in haste, and first and last 'twas quite decided, and I sent it to you under my own hand.'
'I thought you were a friend to me, Dr. Walsingham, and now I'm sure you're none,' said the young fellow, in the same bitter tone.
'Ah, Captain Devereux, he can be no friend to you who is a friend to your faults; and you no friend to yourself if you be an enemy to him that would tell you of them. Will you like him the worse that would have you better?'
'We've all faults, Sir; mine are not the worst, and I'll have neither shrift nor absolution. There's some reason here you won't disclose.'
He was proud, fierce, pale, and looked damnably handsome and wicked.
'She gave no reason, Sir;' answered Dr. Walsingham. No, she gave none; but, as I understood, she did not love you, and she prayed me to mention it no more.'
'She gave no reason; but you know the reason,' glared out Devereux.
'Indeed, Sir, I do not know the reason,' answered the rector.
'But you know—you must—you meant—you, at least had heard some ill of me, and you no longer wish my suit to prosper.'