With the letter clutched with a death-grip in his hand, his face livid, his brow corrugated, his eyes fixed, his whole form rigid and motionless, he sat with his eyes riveted on that fatal letter.
In all her life Georgia had never seen the calm, self-sustained Richmond Wildair moved, and now—oh, this was awful! She sprang to his side and caught his arm, crying out:
"Richmond! Richmond! oh, Richmond! what is the matter?"
He lifted his eyes with a hollow groan.
"Oh, Georgia!"
"Richmond! oh, Richmond! is Charley dead?"
"Dead? No! Would he were!" he said, with passionate bitterness.
"Oh, Richmond, this is terrible! What has your brother—"
"Brother! it is false!" he exclaimed, fiercely, springing to his feet; "he is no brother of mine!"
"Good gracious! Richmond, what has he done?"