"And why is your life over--at thirty? Because of him and his ways of devilish malice; he cared for her really nothing at all. When he came the second time, a year after the marriage, he set his soul upon ruining you and her. He thought of nothing else. Do not stop me. I will go on. I will have it out for once. You would never listen to me before. Now you shall--you shall!"
He was speaking in a loud and vehement voice, and swinging his arms wildly round him as he sat forward on his chair.
"Go on."
"Well, I liked you best of all; you had everything in your favour: position, money, abilities, even years. You were younger than the scoundrel, and quite as good-looking. You had not his lying smooth tongue for women, or his fine sentiment for their silly ears. I thought all would be well if she married you. She did, and all went well for a year, until he came back, and then all went wrong, and she stole away out of your house, taking your child with her."
"I know--I know; but spare me. I have only just said most of this myself."
"No doubt; but I must say what is in my heart--what has been in my heart for years. Well, we know he deserted her after a few months. He left her and her child to starve in America, the cowardly ruffian! What I have had in my mind to say for years, Frank, is that of all the men in this world, I love and esteem you most; that I love and esteem you more than all the other men in this world put together, and that it drives me mad to think shame and sorrow should have come upon you through my blood."
"Do not speak of her, Philip. What has been done cannot be undone."
"No; but the shame which has come upon you through my blood can be washed out in his, and by----, it shall! and here I swear it afresh."
With a sudden movement forward he flung himself on his knees and threw his open right hand up, calling Heaven to witness his oath.
Bramwell paused in his walk. The two men remained motionless for a moment. Suddenly Bramwell started. There was a loud knocking at the door.