“There is always the tie that binds—the child—and, she belongs by Nature’s bond to me.”
But, the man who coarsely counted upon “a previous condition of servitude” as establishing a valid claim upon the Lady of Lakemere, shivered under the cold scorn of her words, for the wife of his youth seated herself, and, gazing into his eyes with an unutterable contempt, read the death warrant of his hopes.
“Let me cast up our accounts, here, now, in my home, Arnold Cranstoun, on this winter day, in a solitude on which you shall never intrude again save when I call upon you.
“The dead past is buried. Let it rest. Dare not to cry Resurgam! I dismiss all your sneers as to Alynton, and, I fear not your circle. You are as yet, but a clumsy neophyte there.
“Know, once for all, that your friends are in my power, but they trust to me, and, I am more than worthy of their confidence.
“For another circle of men of boundless power also trust me—men who would not trust them, save through me, and, men who would resistlessly crush you at my bidding.
“I speak now for the woman who is dead.
“Margaret Cranstoun, the woman heart slain by your cowardice, the loving and tender girl-wife. Look back nineteen long years to see yourself the trusted bank-cashier, a rising man of thirty-two.
“I was then your slave, your loving slave, a wearer of self-forced heart shackles. I, the girl of seventeen, believed you to be my lover husband—a man among men.”
Senator James Garston’s head was bowed in his hands, as the accusing voice rang out. He heard the knell of his last hopes.