At this moment Allan entered the room, evidently in a towering passion, while a servant brought in the refreshment Constance had ordered for her father, by an opposite door.
"Take away those things!" he thundered "they are not wanted here."
The foot-boy hesitated a moment.
"My mistress, sir," he said.
"Take them away, I say!"
The servant obeyed. Constance had sunk back on the sofa in violent hysterics, while Mr. Leslie seemed petrified. Allan for the first time in his life was neglectful of his wife, and had refused her father's proffered hand.
"You wrote to me, Mr. Leslie, this morning," he continued, "to make a most modest request. I need offer no comment on you and your family's conduct toward me; but do me the favor to read this letter: it is a sufficient answer; and then, sir, leave my house, before I am tempted to kick you out of it."
"Allan!" shrieked Constance.
"Was it not enough, sir, that my comforts should be curtailed, my home rendered uncomfortable, my wife's health and spirits broken, her integrity destroyed—yes, that she should be taught to deceive me systematically, in order that my money should pay your and your sons' debts? Was not that enough without such disgrace as this? A lawyer's letter demanding payment of my wife's debts when single, her wedding clothes even not paid for!"
"Good God! what is this? Speak, Constance, this instant."