"I know it. I knew it. I know you are, Dick," said the old man eagerly. "And my life is a perfect hell. I can nowhere in England find rest for the sole of my foot. I am suffering perpetually the most miserable mortifications, and the tortures of the damned. I know you are sorry. It can't be pleasant to you to see your father the miserable outcast, and fugitive, and victim he so often is. And I'll say distinctly--I'll say at once--for it was with this one purpose I sent for you--that no son with a particle of human feeling, with a grain of conscience, or an atom of principle, could endure to see it, when he knew that by a stroke of his pen he could undo it all, and restore a miserable parent to life and liberty! Now, Richard, you have my mind. I have concealed nothing, and I'm sure, Dick, I know, I _know_ you won't see your father perish by inches, rather than sign the warrant for his liberation. For God's sake, Dick, my boy speak out! Have you the heart to reject your miserable father's petition? Do you wish me to kneel to you? I love you, Dick, although you don't admit it. I'll kneel to you, Dick--I'll kneel to you. I'll go on my knees to you." His hands were clasped; he made a movement. His great prominent eyes were fixed on Richard Arden's face, which he was reading with a great deal of eagerness, it is true, but also with a dark and narrow shrewdness. "Good heaven, Sir, don't stir, I implore! If you do, I must leave the room," said Richard, embarrassed to a degree that amounted to agitation. "And I must tell you, Sir--it is very painful, but, I could not help it, necessity drove me to it--if I were ever so desirous, it is out of my power now. I have dealt with my reversion. I have executed a deed." "You have been with the Jews!" cried the old man, jumping to his feet. "You have been dealing, by way of _post obit_, with my estate!" Richard Arden looked down. Sir Reginald was as nearly white as his yellow tint would allow; his large eyes were gleaming fire--he looked as if he would have snatched the poker, and brained his son. "But what could I do, Sir? I had no other resource. I was forbidden your house; I had no money." "You lie, Sir!" yelled the old man, with a sudden flash, and a hammer of his thin trembling fist on the table. "You had a hundred and fifty pounds a year of your mother's." "But that, Sir, could not possibly support any one. I was compelled to act as I did. You really, Sir, left me no choice."