"Again, I tell you, sir," said Marston, in a tone somewhat calmer, but no
less stern, "such doubts as you describe have no existence; your
unsuspecting ear has been alarmed by a vindictive wretch, an old
scoundrel who has scarce a passion left but spite towards me; few such
there are, thank God; few such villains as would, from a man's very
calamities, distil poison to kill the peace and character of his family."

"I am sorry, Mr. Marston," said the clergyman, "you have formed so ill an
opinion of a neighbor, and I am very sure that Mr. Mervyn meant you no
ill in frankly expressing whatever doubts still rested on his mind, after
the evidence was taken."

"He did--the scoundrel!" said Marston, furiously striking his hand, in
which his whip was clutched, upon his thigh; "he did mean to wound and
torture me; and with the same object he persists in circulating what he
calls his doubts. Meant me no ill, forsooth! why, my great God, sir,
could any man be so stupid as not to perceive that the suggestion of such
suspicions--absurd, contradictory, incredible as they were--was
precisely the thing to exasperate feelings sufficiently troubled
already, and not content with raising the question, where it was scouted,
as I said, as soon as named, the vindictive slanderer proceeds to
propagate and publish his pretended surmises--d----n him."

"Mr. Marston, you will pardon me when I say that, as a Christian
minister, I cannot suffer a spirit so ill as that you manifest, and
language so unseemly as that you have just uttered, to pass unreproved,"
said Danvers, solemnly. "If you will cherish those bitter and unchristian
feelings, at least for the brief space that I am with you, command your
fierce, unbecoming words."