"No! never—never—never! till you give me—"
"What?"
"That!"
"That!" he cried. Then as if recollecting himself, he endeavored, as it seemed, to master his agitation, and said more calmly, "Let me be, Ella! and if it will be any satisfaction to you, I will thrust the bottle into the fire. But, you foolish girl, what do you gain by closing one exit, when there are open ten thousand as good?"
Disengaging himself from her relaxing arms, he walked up to the fire-place, and thrust the phial between the bars. It broke as he did so, and there was a strong smell of bitter almonds. She had risen from her knees. She followed him, and again laid that hand upon his arm—that soft, fair hand, of whose beauty he was wont to be so proud. It trembled violently now; but as if impelled with unwonted courage, and an energy inspired by the occasion, she ventured upon that which it was long since anyone ever had presumed to offer to Julian Winstanley—upon a plain-spoken remonstrance.
"Papa," she said, "promise me that you will never—never—never again——"
"Do what?"
"Make an attempt upon your life—if I must speak out," she said, with a spirit that astonished him.
"Attempt my life? What should I attempt my life for?" said he, and he glanced round the scene of luxury which surrounded him. He was continuing, in a tone of irony—but it would not do. He sank upon a sofa, and covering his face with his hands, groaned—"Yes—yes, Ella! all you say is true. I am a wretch who is unworthy to—and more—who will not live." He burst forth at last with a loud voice; and his hands falling from his face, displayed a countenance dark with a sort of resolute despair. "No—no—no!—death, death!—annihilation—and forgetfulness! Why did you come in to interrupt me, girl?" he added, roughly seizing her by the arm.
"Because—I know not—something—Oh! it was the good God, surely, who impelled me," she cried, bursting into tears. "Oh, papa! papa! Do not! do not! Think of us all—your girls—Cle. and I. You used to love us, papa——"