"
"Sir!" shouted the marquis, with all the voice he had left.--"O God,
have mercy! I _cannot_ punish the scoundrel."
"The scoundrel is the man who lies, my lord."
"Were I anywhere else--"
"There would be no good in telling you the truth, my lord. You showed
her to the world as a woman over whom you had prevailed, and not as
the honest wife she was. What _kind_ of a lie was that, my lord? Not a
white one, surely?"
"You are a damned coward to speak so to a man who cannot even turn on
his side to curse you for a base hound. You would not dare it but that
you know I cannot defend myself."
"You are right, my lord: your conduct is indefensible."
"By Heaven! if I could but get this cursed leg under me, I would throw
you out of the window."
"I shall go by the door, my lord. While you hold by your sins, your
sins will hold by you. If you should want me again I shall be at your
lordship's command."
He rose and left the room, but had not reached his cottage before
Malcolm overtook him with a second message from his master. He turned
at once, saying only, "I expected it."
"Mr. Graham," said the marquis, looking ghastly, "you must have
patience with a dying man. I was very rude to you, but I was in
horrible pain."
"Don't mention it, my lord. It would be a poor friendship that gave
way for a rough word."
"How can you call yourself my friend?"
"I should be your friend, my lord, if it were only for your wife's
sake.
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