Part 38 (2/2)
”Bah! don't go into high sentiment. Blasted your home? Hang it, man, talk sense! What did you care for your home? Where have you been to-night?”
”Where I pleased,” cried Morrison, with subdued rage in his eyes; but he lowered his voice.
”Exactly, you had your little affair to attend to: why should not madame have her guest by way of solace, in the absence of so true and faithful a husband?”
”You villain!” panted Morrison again, as he caught the wrists that held him down.
”Villain, if you like to use such strong language, _mon cher_; but for heaven's sake be calm--be a man of the world! We don't live in the old, sentimental Darby-and-Joan days, my dear fellow, but in times when it is fas.h.i.+onable to follow one's own sweet will. You are like the dog in the manger: obstinate--selfish--brutal. Go to, my dear friend, and enjoy yourself, but let others live and enjoy themselves too.”
For answer Frank Morrison made a desperate struggle to rise, but he was quite helpless under the strong pressure of his opponent's knee.
”For goodness' sake, be calm,” said Malpas angrily. ”Hang it, man, what did you expect in our matter-of-fact world! You brought me here constantly, and you left us together constantly. Do you forget that we were old lovers before you came between us? There, you are coming to your senses, I hope.”
He stepped away quickly towards the door, and Frank Morrison sprang up and made as if once more to seize him, but with a violent thrust Malpas sent him backwards and was gone.
Frank Morrison stood motionless till he heard the front door close; then with a moan of anguish he turned towards where Renee still lay insensible upon the couch.
”My punishment!” he groaned: ”and I believed in her so thoroughly; I thought her so pure, so sweet that--out upon me! I left her, dog that I was, for garbage. Curse him!” he cried in a paroxysm of rage, ”curse her, with her smooth, white, innocent looks! The whole world is blasted with villainy, and there is not one among us worthy of a moment's faith.”
”Frank--husband,” moaned a voice, and Renee, pale as death, rose trembling to clasp her hands before him.
He caught them in his, dragged her up savagely, and then swung her down upon her knees.
”And you, too, of all women in the world! Curse you! curse you! may you--”
”Frank, my own, I--”
”Out upon you!” he cried. ”I'll never look upon your smooth false face again!”
Choking with her emotion, she tried to speak--to cling to him; but he s.n.a.t.c.hed himself away, and as she fell heavily upon the carpet he rushed from the house.
Volume 2, Chapter IV.
LATE IN THE FIELD.
”Why, what's the matter?”
”Matter!” panted d.i.c.k Millet, dancing excitedly into Marcus Glen's room, where the latter was sitting back, cigar in mouth, reading the most interesting parts of a sporting paper. ”Why, everything's the matter.
While you are sitting here at your ease, those two old patriarchs have been stealing a march upon us.”
”When you get a little less excited,” said Glen coolly, ”perhaps you will explain.”
”Oh, it's easily explained: those two--that Jew fellow, Elbraham, and that old yellow apricot, Lord Henry Moorpark--have been in at the private apartments this hour.”
”Visit of ceremony,” said Glen, sending up a little cloud of smoke.
”Yes, and then they've been walking up and down in the gardens, talking earnestly together.”
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