You are
as noble a gentleman as Brutus was! Kill me, then! I am a murderer: but
I am a Davenant, and no coward!"
From the fierce and swollen face, in which the dark eyes burned like
firebrands, my glance passed to the countenance of General Davenant. A
startling change had taken place in the expression of the old cavalier.
He was no longer erect, fiery, defiant. His glance no longer darted
scorn and anger. His chin had fallen upon his breast; his frame
drooped; his cheeks, but now so flushed, were covered with a deep
pallor.
For a moment he remained silent. The hand which had clutched at the
sword hilt hung listless at his side. All at once his breast heaved,
and with a sound which resembled a groan, he said, in low tones:--
"I am punished! Yes, my hatred has brought forth fruit, and the fruit
is bitter! It was I who warped this life, and the tree has grown as I
inclined it."
"Yes," said Darke, in his deep voice, "first warped--then, when cut
down, cast off and forgotten!"
General Davenant looked at the speaker with bitter melancholy.
"Ah! you charge me with that, do you, sir?" he said, "You do not
remember, then, that I have suffered for you--you do not know, perhaps,
that for ten years I have labored under the imputation of that crime,
and have preserved silence that I might shield your memory--for I
thought you dead! You do not know that I never breathed a syllable of
that letter which you sent to me on the day of my trial--that I have
allowed the world to believe I was saved by a legal technicality! You
have not heard, perhaps, that a daughter of Judge Conway is beloved by
your brother, and that her father rejects with scorn the very idea of
forming an alliance with _my_ son--the son of one whom he regards as
the murderer of his brother! Oh! yes, sir! truly I have cast off and
forgotten you and your memory! I have not wept tears of blood over the
crime you committed--over the dishonor that rested on the name of
Davenant! I have not writhed beneath the cold and scornful eye of Judge
Conway and his friends! I have not seen your brother's heart breaking
for love of that girl; and suppressed all, concealed every thing, borne
the brand on my proud forehead, and _his_ young life, that _your_
tombstone might at least not have 'murderer' cut on it! And now you
taunt me with my faults!--with my injudicious course toward you when
your character was forming.
Pages:
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438