‘And I refuse,’ Edward replied, in his sternest tone, rising also, ‘to accept that flimsy excuse—in short, to call it by its proper name, that transparent falsehood. If you do not tell me the true reason at once, much as I respect and like Miss Dupuy, I shall have to ask you, sir, to leave my house immediately.’
A light seemed to burst suddenly upon the passionate planter, which altered his face curiously, by gradual changes, from livid blue to bright scarlet. The corners of his mouth began to go up sideways in a solemnly ludicrous fashion: the crow’s-feet about his eyes first relaxed and then tightened deeply; his whole big body seemed to be inwardly shaken by a kind of suppressed impalpable laughter. ‘Why, Tom,’ he exclaimed, turning with a curious half-comical look to his wondering nephew, ‘do you know—upon my word—I really believe—no, it can’t be possible—but I really believe—they don’t even now know anything at all about it.’
‘Explain yourself,’ Edward said sternly, placing himself between Mr Dupuy and the door, as if on purpose to bar the passage outward.
‘If you really don’t know about it,’ Mr Dupuy said slowly, with an unusual burst of generosity for him, ‘why, then, I admit, the insult to Miss Dupuy is—is—is less deliberately intentional than I at first sight imagined.—But no, no: you must know all about it already. You can’t still remain in ignorance. It’s impossible, quite impossible.’
‘Explain,’ Edward reiterated inexorably.
‘You compel me?’
‘I compel you.’
‘You’d better not; you won’t like it.’
‘I insist upon it.’
‘Well, really, since you make a point of it—but there, you’ve been brought up like a gentleman, Mr Hawthorn, and you’ve married a wife who, as I learn from my daughter, is well connected, and has been brought up like a lady; and I don’t want to hurt your feelings needlessly. I can understand that under such circumstances’——