"You knew of it, and yet listened to my love-ravings? However, the flirtation, engagement--whatever it was--was gall and wormwood to me. I had seen them together on several occasions, and the recollection of the pleasure which she always showed in his society used to madden me. I made all kinds of excuses to go to her house; I lent her father money whenever he asked for it; each time I saw her I was more madly in love, but she was no nearer to me than before. One morning her father wrote to me to come to him on urgent business. I thought he wanted more money, but he explained that it was to consult me--I who was so calm and clever and far-seeing, God help me!--as to the future of his child. He had that morning had a letter from Mr. Gordon Frere making a formal proposal for Miss Guyon's hand, and enclosing another letter to Miss Guyon herself." Here Charles Yeldham shifted his position, leaning forward in his chair, and fixing his eyes on Streightley's face. "I did not read either of these letters," continued Robert; "but Mr. Guyon explained to me their purport, and I knew at once my doom. Mr. Guyon expressed his dislike to the proposed connection, stating that Mr. Frere was too young, too frivolous, and too poor to be intrusted with Miss Guyon's future. In an instant, and almost without knowing what I did, I proposed to Mr. Guyon for his daughter. He accepted me instantly, declared himself delighted, and assured me that he would smooth matters for me with Miss Guyon. But there was Frere's letter. We both knew that she was fond of the young man; we both knew that she would accept his offer; we--yes, we both agreed that the letter should be kept back from her, and that she should never be informed of Frere's proposal." "Good God!" exclaimed Yeldham, "and that intention was carried out?" "At once. Frere was answered by Mr. Guyon that his daughter was engaged to me, and--there! I cannot go through the sickening details of that time again, nor describe the manner in which that girl was cheated of her lover and made over to me. Since then the knowledge of my treachery has never left me, I may fairly say I haven't had one happy hour, and--could I only get my wife back, and prove to her how sincere is my desire to atone for my part in this plot, I should not repine at its having come to light. You don't speak, Yeldham; you despise me--you----"