“I will not dwell upon a horrid scene which you remember full well. There is but one on earth capable of executing such a crime: he loved your sister; and to possess this heart, he destroyed your child.—How he destroyed him I know not. We saw the boy, cold, even in death—we wept over him: and now, upon plea of some petty vengeance, because I will not permit him to draw me further into his base purposes, he is resolved to make this scene of blood and iniquity public to the world. He has already betrayed me to a relentless son; and he now means to bring forward an impostor in the place of your murdered infant!”—“Who will do this?”—“Viviani; Viviani himself will produce him before your eyes.” “Would to God that he might do so!” cried the duke, gazing with pity and horror on the fine but fallen creature who stood before him. “I have not that strength,” he continued, “you, of all living mortals, seem alone to possess.—My thoughts are disturbed.—I know not what to think, or how to act. You overwhelm me at once; and your very presence takes from me all power of reflection. Leave me, therefore.” “Never, till I have your promise. I fear you: I know by your look, that you are resolved to see my enemy—to hear.” “Margaret, I will hear you to-morrow.” “No to-morrow shall ever see us two again together.” “In an hour I will speak with you again—one word.”—As he said this, the duke arose: and seizing her fiercely by the arm: “Answer but this—do you believe the boy this Viviani will produce?—do you think it possible?—answer me, Margaret, and I will pardon all—do you think the boy is my long lost child?” “Have no such hope; he is dead. Did we not ourselves behold him? Did we not look upon his cold and lifeless corpse?” “Too true, my sister.” “Then fear not: Buchanan shall not be defrauded.” “It is not for Buchanan that I speak: he is lost to me: I have no son.” “But I would not have you fall a prey to the miserable arts of this wretch. Beware of Viviani—remember that still I am your sister: and now, for the last time, I warn you, go not to Colwood Bay; for if you do....” “What then?” “You seal your sister’s death.” As she uttered these words, Lady Margaret looked upon the duke in agony, and retired. CHAPTER XCVIII. The duke continued many moments on the spot where she had left him, without lifting his eyes from the ground—without moving, or speaking, or giving the smallest sign of the deep feelings by which he was overpowered; when suddenly Lord Glenarvon was announced.