“But he has been looking for you—has spent money. You might at least have told him that you were alive.”
“I regret the expense; but my child—you forget her. I did not know that she longed for her father, yet I remembered her mother’s nature. Had she had a hint of my existence a search might have been instituted. Better for her to think that I was dead than to link herself with one who would disgrace her. To you,” and the elder man turned impulsively to Armour, “my intensely grateful acknowledgments are due for your care of my child. By the kindness of one of the most noble and admirable of men, I have been enabled to receive accounts of her safe-keeping; occasionally, with a heart wrung with thankfulness, to see her. Your vigilance, your loyalty, I knew I could trust; for this latter expression, this love for my beloved daughter, I was unprepared. I felt that I must hasten here, yet always with the feeling that the boy of my earlier recollections would not prove unworthy of the highest mark of my confidence. At the moment of finding my child I am willing to lose her again for her sake and yours.”
While Mr. Delavigne was speaking Mr. Armour’s expression had again become one of insensibility to either pleasure or pain, and Camperdown closely observing him went to the door and sharply ejaculated: “I can make nothing of this Obstinacy the Second. I would give a thousand dollars if my wife had not chosen to go orphan-hunting in the country at this time.” Then he turned on his heel and came back into the room. “What about Vivienne?”
“It would be a crime to link her life with my disgraced one,” said Armour heavily. “She must forget me.”
“Is she a girl to do that?”
“To forget is the privilege of youth,” said Armour drearily. “You may fancy that I am doing a cruel thing; ten years hence Vivienne will be happily married to another man. You cannot tempt me,” he said with sudden energy. “I have weighed the matter. The pang will be sharp and short for Vivienne——”
“And for you?” said Camperdown eagerly.
“For me—it does not matter. I am going away.”
“Going to blow your brains out,” muttered Camperdown. Then he exclaimed with increased energy: “Think of your God, your country, your promised wife. You have been living for the good opinion of your fellow-men. Your god Respectability is a poor, rotten thing.”
“Stanton!” exclaimed a voice from the doorway.