ted.

Sir Murray's lips were white with passion as he strode up to the young
man, and the stick he carried quivered in his strong hand as he held it
half raised, as if about to strike. He stopped short in front of Brace,
glaring at him fiercely, but for a few moments, as he gazed in the young
man's calm, dispassionate face, he did not speak. At last, though in a
voice choking with wrath, he exclaimed, as he pointed with his stick in
the direction taken by Isa:

"Like father--like son. You know, I do not doubt, the history of twenty
years ago--a history that you, pitiful, contemptible slave that you are,
compel me to revert to. You know how my happiness was blasted. You
know that, urged by his necessities, your father dishonoured himself for
ever, in the eyes of gentlemen, and became a thief."

"I know that to be utterly false, Sir Murray Gernon," said Brace,
calmly.

"You know how, afterwards, he played upon the weakness of a fickle
woman, till she fled with him," continued the baronet, without seeming
to hear the interruption.

"I know, too, that that is false, Sir Murray," said Brace still calmly;
"and that my father is as pure-minded and honourable a man as ever
breathed."

"Insult--robbery--disgrace!" continued Sir Murray, without heeding him.
"Everything, in his revenge for my unhappy marriage, he heaped upon my
head. Twice, for long spaces of time, I exiled myself; till now, when,
after twenty years, I come back to spend the rest of my days in peace in
my old home, I find my enemy's son grown up and ready, the moment I
plant foot upon the English shore, to waylay me, and accost Miss Gernon
with his impertinent persecution. I warned you--I sought in every way
to discourage you; your own heart must have told you that every word
addressed to that girl was an insult to me, and that, even would I have
stooped low enough to have permitted it, any union was impossible; and,
still finding in her her mother's weakness--the weakness your vile
parent betrayed--you persevered. You knew, too, that she was engaged--
that I had made arrangements for a suitable marriage; and, doubtless,
you found in that a good lever for moving her--telling her that she was
the victim of paternal persecution. Dishonour, dishonour, dishonour! in
every step dishonour, trickery, and deceit; winning upon her, by
clandestine meetings, till I find that she has stooped so low as to
suffer, here in a public thoroughfare, in the presence e