It was
a cruel vengeance, for, before he had read the letter through, he knew
that if the story were correct, she could be his wife in name only--that
they must part. Poverty, obscurity, seemed as nothing now--but crime?
Oh, Heaven, that his name and race should be so dishonored! If he had
known the real truth, he would have died rather than have uttered one
word of love to her.
The daughter of a felon--and he had brought her to Beechgrove as
successor to a roll of noble women, each one of whom had been of noble
birth! She was the daughter of a felon--no matter how fair, how
graceful, how pure. For the first time the glory of Beechgrove was
tarnished. But it would not be for long--it could not be for long; she
must not remain. The daughter of a felon to be the mother of his
children--ah, no, not if he went childless to the grave! Better that his
name were extinct, better that the race of Arleigh should die out, than
that his children should be pointed at as children with tainted blood!
It could never be. He would expect the dead and gone Arleighs to rise
from their graves in utter horror, he would expect some terrible curse
to fall on him, were so terrible a desecration to happen.
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