"What interest can I have in trying to make you a bastard? Is the boy mad?"
"You never act without a motive," I cried; "you know that I am heir to a title, and property that you covet for yourself and your son!"
His pretended calmness was all gone. His pale face crimsoned with rage. Yet it was wonderful how instantaneously he mastered his passion.
"Who told you this probable story? Who put such absurd notions into your head?"
"One, upon whose word I can rely. My friend, Mr. Harrison."
"I would like to ask Mr. Harrison what he knows of our family affairs," sneered Mr. Moncton. "He has proved himself a scoundrel by inventing this pretty little romance to get up a quarrel between us, and rob you of the only real friend you have. I will repay Mr. Harrison for this base falsehood, one of these days."
I felt that I had, betrayed my friend, and perhaps by my foolish rashness marred my own fortunes. Inwardly I cursed my imprudence, and loaded myself with reproaches. Then the thought suggested itself, "Could my uncle be right—was I indeed illegitimate?"
"No, no," I exclaimed, unconsciously aloud; "it is not true—I feel that it is false. A base falsehood got up to rob me of my good name—the only treasure left me by Providence when she deprived me of my parents. Uncle," I exclaimed, standing erect before him, "I will never part with it. I will maintain my equality with you and your son to the last moment of my life."
Overcome by excitement and agitation, I sank down into a chair, my head dropped upon the table and I sobbed convulsively.
"Geoffrey," said my uncle, in a low voice, in which an unusual touch of kindness mingled, "calm down this furious passion. Poor lad! I pity and excuse your indignation; both are natural in your case."