The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 395: what you’re looking at

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318 REYNOLDS’ WORKS to your guilt in another respect. Just now you admitted that you had been very culpable toward me. Therefore must we separate.” | ‘“Ts there no pardon, no forgiveness?’ asked Anastatia, in bitterest anguish of mind, at the same time joining her hands in the most fervid appeal. ‘‘ I know that I deceived you eon 3 “Enough, Anastatia!’’ interrupted the merchant, with an implacable expression of countenance, though inwardly he was moved; “ the very subject itself forbids discussion. I do not say to you, ‘ Go with that felon brother of yours,’ but I bid you depart hence in the course of this day. He is about to reheve my dwelling of the pestilential atmosphere which hangs around his criminal presence.” “ Sir Frederick, you must be obeyed,” faltered Anastatia, the tears streaming down her cheeks, and her bosom con- vulsed with sobs, ‘‘ and perhaps I deserve it all for having concealed that secret from you. But still methinks the chastisement is severe; it is a terrible one for an impru- dence — ”’ “An imprudence, Anastatia?’”’ cried the merchant, angrily. ‘“‘ Dare you thus lightly denominate the profligacy — you see that you compel me to speak out —” “Sir Frederick,” mterrupted Lady Anastatia, suddenly dashing away her tears, and drawing herself up with an air of feminine dignity blended with indignation, “‘ this is language which even from you I cannot and will not tolerate. I repeat, my conduct was marked with imprudence per- haps, but only in one sense. It was because on the day when, a year back, you desired me to desist from dealing with Madame Angelique, and when you hinted at the reasons, I did not frankly confess to you at the time that in utter ignorance of the character of that establishment — ’”’ “Good heavens! what is this that I hear? ”’ exclaimed Sir Frederick, and he literally staggered back as if smitten a blow. “ Speak, Anastatia, tell me! The person whom you met there, he whom before our marriage as well as subse- quently —”’ “Ask him, Sir Frederick, ask him! ’’ exclaimed Anastatia; “he is here, he will tell the truth, he will not see his own sister trampled down into the dust. Ask him, I say, who it was that I met at Madame Angelique’s house.’’ ! Gomichbooks.¢co