“My kind old friend,” said Hansford, with a tremulous voice, “I would fain have reserved for your private ear, an explanation which is now rendered necessary by that insolent minion, whose impertinence had already received the chastisement it deserves, but for an unfortunate interruption.”
“Nay, Tom,” said the Colonel, “no harsh words. Remember this young man is my guest, and as such, entitled to respect from all under my roof.”
“Well then, sir,” continued Hansford, “this young lady's agitation was caused by the fact that I have lately pursued a course, which, while I believe it to be just and honourable, I fear will meet with but little favour in your eyes.”
“As much in the dark as ever,” said the Colonel, perplexed beyond measure, for his esteem for Hansford prevented him from suspecting the true cause of his daughter's disquiet. “Damn it, man, Davus sum non Œdipus. Speak out plainly, and if your conduct has been, as you say, consistent with your honour, trust to an old friend to forgive you. Zounds, boy, I have been young myself, and can make allowance for the waywardness of youth. Been gaming a little too high, hey; well, the rest[19] was not so low in my day, but that I can excuse that, if you didn't 'pull down the side.'”[20]
“I would fain do the young man a service, for I bear him no ill-will, though he has treated me a little harshly,” said Bernard, as he saw Hansford silently endeavouring to frame a reply in the most favourable terms, “I see he is ashamed of his cause, and well he may be; for you must know that he has become a great man of late, and has linked his fate to a certain Nathaniel Bacon.”
The old loyalist started as he heard this unexpected announcement, then with a deep sigh, which seemed to come from his very soul, he turned to Hansford and said, “My boy, deny the foul charge; say it is not so.”
“It is, indeed, true,” replied Hansford, mournfully, “but when—”
“But when the devil!” cried the old man, bursting into a fit of rage; “and you expect me to stand here and listen to your justification. Zounds, sir, I would feel like a traitor myself to hear you speak. And this is the serpent that I have warmed and cherished at my hearth-stone. Out of my house, sir!”
“To think,” chimed in Mrs. Temple, for once agreeing fully with her husband, “how near our family, that has always prided itself on its loyalty, was being allied to a traitor. But he shall never marry Virginia, I vow.”
“No, by God,” said the enraged loyalist; “she should rot in her grave first.”