Captain Ernscliffe flushed crimson to the roots of his hair, and then grew deathly pale.
"I must refer you to my counsel, then," he answered, after a pause. "I have nothing to say about her myself."
"Lawrence!"
The gently rebuking tone in which the one word was uttered made the hearer start. He looked up quickly.
"Well, sir?"
"Do you know that you are treating my niece very unfairly in this matter. It is cruel to condemn her with her defense unheard."
"She condemned herself, Mr. Lyle, without a word from anyone else. Her guilt and shame were written all too legibly on her face the moment she looked upon Leon Vinton."
"Let us grant that she had reason to be ashamed of his acquaintance, Lawrence. Still may there not be some extenuation for her fault?"
"None, none! The more I think of it the blacker her dreadful sins appear. Oh, my God, to think of her with her face as lovely as an angel's, and her heart all black with sin! To think how I trusted and loved her, and how basely she repaid my confidence! How cruelly she deceived and betrayed me!" exclaimed the outraged husband, rising from his seat and pacing the floor excitedly.
"I cannot effect any compromise, then?" said Mr. Lyle, irresolutely. "You are bent on a divorce, I suppose. A separation would not content you?"