Philip sprang up with an exclamation of rage and cursed Hilda aloud.

"No," went on his father, standing before him, his tall frame swaying
backwards and forwards with excitement; "no, do not curse her, she,
like your other poor dupe, is an honest woman; on yourself be the
damnation, you living fraud, you outcast from all honour, who have
brought shame and reproach upon our honest name, on you be it; may
every curse attend _you_, and may remorse torture _you_. Listen: you
lied to me, you lied to your wife, trebly did you lie to the
unfortunate girl you have deceived; but, if you will not speak it, for
once hear the truth, and remember that you have to deal with one so
relentless, that fools, mistaking justice for oppression, call him
'devil.' I, 'Devil Caresfoot,' tell you that I will disinherit you of
every stick, stone, and stiver that the law allows me, and start you
in the enjoyment of the rest with my bitterest curse. This I will do
now whilst I am alive; when I am dead, by Heaven, I will haunt you if
I can."

Here he stopped for want of breath, and stood for a moment in the full
light of the cheery blaze, one hand raised above his head as though to
strike, and, presenting with his glittering eyes and working features,
so terrible a spectacle of rage that his son recoiled involuntarily
before him.

But fury begets fury as love begets love, and in another second Philip
felt his own wicked temper boil up within him. He clenched his teeth
and stood firm.

"Do your worst," he said; "I hate you; I wish to God that you were
dead."