"You mean----?" says the latter again, even more slowly. His eyes
are beginning to light.

"Exactly what I have said," sullenly. "You have heard me."

"Yes, I _have_ heard you," cries the professor, flinging aside all
restraints and giving way to sudden violent passion--the more
violent, coming from one so usually calm and indifferent. "You have
come here to-day to try and get possession, not only of the fortune
of a young and innocent girl, but of her body and _soul_ as well!
And it is me, _me_ whom you ask to be a party to this shameful
transaction. Her dead father left her to my care, and am I to sell
her to you, that her money may redeem our name from the slough into
which _you_ have flung it? Is innocence to be sacrificed that vice
may ride abroad again? Look here," says the professor, his face
deadly white, "you have come to the wrong man. I shall warn Miss
Wynter against marriage with _you,_ as long as there is breath left
in my body."

Sir Hastings has risen too; _his_ face is dark red; the crimson
flood has reached his forehead and dyed it almost black. Now, at
this terrible moment, the likeness between the two brothers, so
different in spirit, can be seen; the flashing eyes, the scornful
lips, the deadly hatred. It is a shocking likeness, yet not to be
denied.

"What do _you_ mean, damn you?" says Sir Hastings; he sways a
little, as if his passion is overpowering him, and clutches feebly
at the edge of the table.__