"Late or not late, that is not now the question. I have to ask you—I insist upon your telling me—at what house in this neighborhood you spend your time?"
There was an ominous pause. Mark smiled sarcastically, but seemed to watch intently for his brother's reply; while the old man's fierce eye glared with tiger-like ferocity upon his younger son.
Algernon at last spoke, and as he did so, he raised his head proudly, and firmly encountered his father's keen gaze.
"I see how it is, sir; my actions have been watched and my motives misapprehended. But I shall not attempt to deny the truth. My visits have been to the house of Mrs. Wildegrave. She has a beautiful and virtuous daughter, whom I mean to make my wife."
"The traitor Wildegrave!—his child?"
"The same."
"And you dare tell me this to my face?"
"I never do that behind your back, that I would be ashamed to own to your face."
"Impudent scoundrel! Do you know in what manner the father of this beautiful and virtuous young lady met his death?"
"As many brave and unfortunate gentlemen did; who, had their cause been successful, would have been praised for their gallantry by the very persons who now condemn them."