‘No!’ said Desmond. ‘He’s no father of mine.’
‘Then he himself is sairly mista’en,’ quoth the old servitor. ‘He’s been leevin’ for years under that impression!’
‘The man who broke my mother’s heart is neither kith nor kin to me! Dulcie, good-bye! God bless you for all your goodness. You must try to forget me.’
‘Oh, Desmond!’ cried the girl, ‘you can’t leave us; you can’t, dear. Stay! Stay for my sake, I implore you!’
‘To be pointed at by everyone as the wretched thing I am. To know that my mother’s name is a byword, and I myself am an outcast. You don’t know what it is you ask me. ’Tis more than I can do.’
‘For my sake, Desmond!’
‘I can’t,’ cried the poor, proud boy; ‘I can’t, even for your sake.’
‘And where are ye going?’ asked Peebles. ‘Eh, Desmond, lad, what will ye do?’
‘Do! Hide myself at any rate from those that have known me. The world’s wide, old friend; don’t fear for me!’
And he made a movement to the door.