"This is fine language," said he, bursting into a scornful laugh. "On what provincial theatre have you been studying, since you were expelled my father's office?"
"I have not yet learned to act the part of the hypocrite and betrayer, in the great drama of life; or by lying and deceit to exalt myself upon the ruin of others."
"Go on, go on," cried he, "I perceive your drift. You are a better actor than you imagine yourself. Such accusations as you can bring against me, will redound more to my credit than praise from such lips."
"Theophilus Moncton," I replied, calmly, "I did not invade the sanctity of this roof in order to meet and quarrel with you. What I have to say to you I will communicate elsewhere."
"Here, sir, if you please—here to my face. I am no coward, and that you know of old. I am certain that you cannot name anything to my disadvantage, but what I am able triumphantly to refute."
"Well—be it so then. I find you here a suitor for this lady's hand. Four days ago your wife attempted suicide, and was rescued from a watery grave by my arm."
"Liar! 'tis false! Do not listen, ladies, to this vile calumniator. He has a purpose of his own to serve, by traducing my character to my friends. Let him bring witnesses more worthy of credit than himself, before you condemn me."
"I condemn no one, Mr. Theophilus," said Mrs. Hepburn, gravely. "Sir Alexander Moncton is a person of credit, and your wife is at present under his protection. What can you say to this?"
She spoke in vain. Theophilus left the room without deigning to reply. We looked in silence at each other.
Miss Lee was the first who spoke:—"He is convicted by his own conscience. I thought him cold and selfish, but never dreamed that he was a villain. And the poor young woman, his wife, what is her name?"