"I will stab him to the heart--I will--"

"Cease these tragic flights. Nay, frown and stamp not; but sit down,
and be reasonable, or leave me and act for yourself."

"Sir," said Cesarini, with an eye that might have alarmed a man less
resolute than Ferrers, "have a care how you presume on my distress."

"You are in distress, and you refuse relief; you are bankrupt in
fortune, and you rave like a poet, when you should be devising and
plotting for the attainment of boundless wealth. Revenge and ambition
may both be yours; but they are prizes never won but by a cautious foot
as well as a bold hand."

"What would you have me do? and what but his life would content me?"

"Take his life if you can--I have no objection--go and take it; only
just observe this, that if you miss your aim, or he, being the stronger
man, strike you down, you will be locked up in a madhouse for the next
year or two at least; and that is not the place in which I should like
to pass the winter--but as you will."

"You!--you!--But what are you to me? I will go. Good day, sir."

"Stay a moment," said Ferrers, when he saw Cesarini about to leave the
room; "stay, take this chair, and listen to me--you had better--"

Cesarini hesitated, and then, as it were, mechanically obeyed.

"Read that letter which Maltravers wrote to you. You have