"Tut, tut, tut! What cause here for duels? Single combats are out of
date; civilized men do not slay each other with sword and pistol. Tut!
revenge! Does it look like revenge, that one object which brings me
hither is to request my father's permission to charge myself with the
care of Audley Egerton's election? What he values most in the world is
his political position; and here his political existence is at stake.
You know that I have had through life the character of a weak, easy,
somewhat over-generous man. Such men are not revengeful. Hold! You lay
your hand on my arm,--I know the magic of that light touch, Mother; but
its power over me is gone. Countess of Lansmere, hear me! Ever from
infancy (save in that frantic passion for which I now despise myself),
I have obeyed you, I trust, as a duteous son. Now, our relative
positions are somewhat altered. I have the right to exact--I will not
say to command--the right which wrong and injury bestow upon all men.
Madam, the injured man has prerogatives that rival those of kings. I now
call upon you to question me no more; not again to breathe the name of
Leonora Avenel, unless I invite the subject; and not to inform Audley
Egerton by a hint, by a breath, that I have discovered--what shall I call
it?--his 'pardonable deceit.' Promise me this, by your affection as
mother, and on your faith as gentlewoman; or I declare solemnly, that
never in life will you look upon my face again."

Haughty and imperious though the countess was, her spirit quailed before
Harley's brow and voice.

"Is this my son,--this my gentle Harley?" she said falteringly. "Oh, put
your arms round my neck; let me feel that I have not lost my child!"

Harley looked softened, but he did not obey the pathetic prayer;
nevertheless, he held out his hand, and turning away his face, said, in a