‘Mr. Jasper Babb,’ exclaimed Ignatius Jordan, ‘you have not been to Buckfastleigh at all. You have not seen your father; you have deceived me with——’
Barbara hastily interrupted him, saying with beating heart, and with colour rising to her pale checks, ‘I pray you, I pray you, say no more. We know very well that you have not left this neighbourhood.’
‘I do not understand you, Miss Jordan. I am but just returned. My horse is not yet unsaddled.’
‘Not another word,’ exclaimed the girl, with pain in her voice. ‘Not another word if you wish us to retain a particle of regard for you. I have pitied you, I have excused you but if you lie—I have said the word, I cannot withdraw it—I give you up.’ Fire was in her heart, tears in her throat.
‘I will speak,’ said Jasper. ‘I value your regard, Miss Jordan, above everything that the world contains. I cannot tamely lose that. There has been a misapprehension. How it has arisen I do not know, but arisen it has, and dissipated it shall be. It is true, as I said, that I was deceived about my father’s condition, wilfully, maliciously deceived. I rode yesterday to Buckfastleigh, and have but just returned. If my father had been dying you would not have seen me here so soon.’
‘We cannot listen to this. We cannot endure this,’ cried Barbara. ‘Will you madden me, after all that has been done for you? It is cruel, cruel!’ Then, unable to control the flood of tears that rose to her eyes, she left the room and the glare of candles.
Jasper approached Mr. Jordan. He had not lost his self-restraint. ‘I do not comprehend this charge of falsehood brought against me. I can bring you a token that I have seen my father, a token you will not dispute. He has told me who your second wife was. She was my sister. Will you do me the justice to say that you believe me?’
‘Yes,’ answered the old man, faintly.
‘May I recall Miss Jordan? I cannot endure that she should suppose me false.’