"Be silent," sternly interrupted Richard, rising in anger. "Are you a man?--are you a gentleman? Or are you what I have been thinking you lately--a false-hearted, despicable knave?"
Whatever Arthur Bohun might be, he was just then in desperate agitation. Rising too, he seized Richard's hands.
"Don't you see that it was but sorry jesting, Richard? Pretending to a bit of pleasantry, to wile away for a moment my weight of torment. I am all that you say of me; and I cannot help myself."
"Not help yourself?"
"As Heaven is my witness, No! If I could take you into my confidence--and perhaps I may do so one of these days, for I long to do it--you would see that I tell you the truth."
"Why have you parted from Ellen Adair?--she and you have parted? You have just said so."
"We have parted for life. For ever."
"You were on the point of marriage with her only a short time ago?"
"No two people could have been nearer marriage than she and I were. We were within half-an-hour of it, Dick; and yet we have parted."
"By your doing, or hers?"