You sneer and say that I first hated George
Conway, and that the son only inherited the family feud, and struck the
enemy of the family! Yes, I acknowledge those sins; I pray daily to be
forgiven for them. I have borne for ten years this bitter load of
dishonor. But there is something more maddening even than my faults,
and the stain on my name--it is to be taunted to my face, here, with
the charge that I struck that blow! that I made you the criminal, and
then threw you off, and drove you to become a renegade in the ranks of
our enemies!"
The last words of the speaker were nearly drowned in a heavy fusillade
which issued from the woods close by.
"Listen!" exclaimed General Davenant, "that is the fire of your
hirelings, sir, directed at the hearts of your brethren! _You_ are
leading that scum against the gentlemen of Virginia! Well join them!
Point _me_, and my son, and companion out to them! Tear us to pieces
with your bullets! Trample us beneath your hireling heels! That will
not prevent me from branding you again in your dishonored
forehead!--from cursing you as renegade, debauchee, and murderer!"
The whistle of bullets mingled with these furious and resounding words;
and then the crackle of footsteps was heard, the undergrowth suddenly
swarmed with figures--a party of Confederates rushed shouting into the
little glade.
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