Part 53 (1/2)
”I don't see why you should object to say 'yes' or 'no' to a charge which, if true, must destroy all brotherly and sisterly feeling between us.”
”But you _are_ my brother! Ask me your own questions, and I will answer.
I will not answer that woman's!”
She stood in front of him, by far the more proud and dignified of the two, and waited for him to begin.
”Did you bring that man with you here from the prison?”
”I brought Mr. Walcott here.”
”And is he here now?”
”Yes.”
”What more is there to be said? Wretched woman, it is well for you that your parents are beyond the reach of this disgrace!”
Whether he meant it or not, he pointed, as he spoke, to the infant in her arms.
Lettice heard a step outside. She went to the door, and spoke in a low voice to Mrs. Jenny. Then she came back again, and said,
”What do you mean, Sydney, by 'this disgrace'?”
”Can you say one word to palliate what you have already admitted? Can you deny the facts which speak for themselves? Great Heaven! that such a shameful thing should fall upon us! The name of Campion has indeed been dragged through the mire of calumny, but never until now has so dark a stain been cast upon it!”
Theatrical in his words, Sydney was even more theatrical in his action.
He stood on the hearth-rug, raised his hands in horror, and bowed his head in grief and self-pity.
”You pointed at the child just now,” said Lettice, steadily; ”what do you mean by that?”
”Do not ask me what I mean. Is not its very existence an indelible disgrace?”
”Perhaps it is,” she said, kissing the little face which was blinking and smiling at her. ”But to whom?”
”To whom!” Sydney cried, with more of real indignation and anger in his voice. ”To its miserable mother--to its unscrupulous and villainous father!”
Lettice's keen ears caught the sound of light and hesitating footsteps in the pa.s.sage outside. She opened the door quickly, and drew in the unfortunate Milly.
Sydney started back, and leaned for support upon the mantelpiece behind him. His face turned white to the very lips.
”Milly,” said the remorseless Lettice, ”tell Mr. Campion who is the father of this child!”
The poor mother who had been looking at her mistress in mute appeal, turned her timid eyes on Sydney's face, then sank upon the floor in an agony of unrestrained weeping.
Except for that sound of pa.s.sionate weeping, there was complete silence in the room for two or three minutes, whilst Sydney's better and worse self strove together for the mastery.
”Milly!” he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed at last, in a hoa.r.s.e undertone, ”I did not know!
Good G.o.d, I did not know.”