He stood up, then, as I have said, with more of respect in his manner than had hitherto marked it.
Mr. Hurst resumed his chair and motioned that the young man should follow his example. He was very pale, and a look of keen suffering lay around his eyes, but still in his features was an expression of relief, as if the degredation that had fallen upon him was less than he had dreaded.
"How, may I ask, how is my—, how is Florence—she looked ill; I trust nothing serious?" said Jameson, sinking into his chair, and goaded to say something by the keen gaze which Mr. Hurst had turned upon him.
"Never again take that name into your lips," said the outraged father—and his stern voice shook with concentrated passion. "If you but breath it in a whisper to your own base heart alone, I will cast aside all, and punish you even to the extremity of the law."
"But, Mr. Hurst—"
"Peace, sir!"
The young ingrate drew back with a start, and looked toward the door, for the terrible passion which he had lighted in that lofty man now broke forth in voice, look and gesture; the wretch was appalled by it.
"Sit still, sir, and hear what I have to say."
"I will—I listen, Mr. Hurst, but do be more composed. I did not mean to offend you in asking after—"
"Young man, beware!" Mr. Hurst had in some degree mastered himself, but the huskiness of his voice, the vivid gleam of his eyes, gave warning that the fire within him though smothered was not quenched.