was so
struck by the altered appearance of the man that the violence of his
indignation was lessened by the pity which he could not suppress.
When Trevelyan spoke of his wretchedness, it was impossible not to
believe him. He was as wretched a being to look at as it might have
been possible to find. His contracted cheeks, and lips always open,
and eyes glowing in their sunken caverns, told a tale which even
Sir Marmaduke, who was not of nature quick in deciphering such
stories, could not fail to read. And then the twitching motion of
the man's hands, and the restless shuffling of his feet, produced a
nervous feeling that if some remedy were not applied quickly, some
alleviation given to the misery of the suffering wretch, human power
would be strained too far, and the man would break to pieces,--or
else the mind of the man. Sir Marmaduke, during his journey in the
cab, had resolved that, old as he was, he would take this sinner
by the throat, this brute who had striven to stain his daughter's
name,--and would make him there and then acknowledge his own
brutality. But it was now very manifest to Sir Marmaduke that there
could be no taking by the throat in this case. He could not have
brought himself to touch the poor, weak, passionate creature before
him. Indeed, even the fury of his words was stayed, and after that
last appeal he stormed no more. "But what is to be the end of it?" he
said.

"Who can tell? Who can say? She can tell. She can put an end to it
all. She has but to say a word, and I will devote my life to her. But
that word must be spoken." As he said this, he dashed his hand upon
the-table, and looked up with an air that would have been comic with
its assumed magnificence had it not been for the true tragedy of the
occasion.

"You had better, at any rate, let her have her child for the
present."

"No;--my boy shall go with me. She may go, too, if she pleases, but
my boy shall certainly go with me. If I had put her from me, as you
said just now, it might have been otherwise. But she shall be as
welcome to me as flowers in May,--as flowers in May! She shall be as
welcome to me as the music of heaven."

Sir Marmaduke felt that he had nothing more to urge. He had
altogether abandoned that idea of having his revenge at the cost of
the man's throat, and was quite convinced that reason could have
no power with him. He was already thinking that he would go away,
straight to his lawyer, so that some step might