The marquis made no answer. "God knows I loved her," he said after a while with a sigh. "You loved her, my lord?" "I did, by God!" "Love a woman like that and come to this?" "Come to this? We must all come to this, I fancy, sooner or later. Come to what, in the name of Beelzebub?" "That, having loved a woman like her, you are content to lose her. In the name of God, have you no desire to see her again?" "It would be an awkward meeting," said the marquis. His was an old love, alas! He had not been capable of the sort that defies change. It had faded from him until it seemed one of the things that are not. Although his being had once glowed in its light, he could now speak of a meeting as awkward. "Because you wronged her?" suggested the schoolmaster. "Because they lied to me, by God!" "Which they dared not have done had you not lied to them first." "Sir!" shouted the marquis, with all the voice he had left.--"O God, have mercy! I _cannot_ punish the scoundrel." "The scoundrel is the man who lies, my lord." "Were I anywhere else--" "There would be no good in telling you the truth, my lord. You showed her to the world as a woman over whom you had prevailed, and not as the honest wife she was. What _kind_ of a lie was that, my lord? Not a white one, surely?" "You are a damned coward to speak so to a man who cannot even turn on his side to curse you for a base hound. You would not dare it but that you know I cannot defend myself." "You are right, my lord: your conduct is indefensible." "By Heaven! if I could but get this cursed leg under me, I would throw you out of the window." "I shall go by the door, my lord. While you hold by your sins, your sins will hold by you. If you should want me again I shall be at your lordship's command." He rose and left the room, but had not reached his cottage before Malcolm overtook him with a second message from his master. He turned at once, saying only, "I expected it." "Mr. Graham," said the marquis, looking ghastly, "you must have patience with a dying man. I was very rude to you, but I was in horrible pain." "Don't mention it, my lord. It would be a poor friendship that gave way for a rough word." "How can you call yourself my friend?" "I should be your friend, my lord, if it were only for your wife's sake. She died loving you. I want to send you to her, my lord. You will allow that, as a gentleman, you at least owe her an apology." "By Jove, you are right, sir! Then you really and positively believe in the place they call heaven?" "My lord, I believe that those who open their hearts to the truth shall see the light on their friends' faces again, and be able to set right what was wrong between them." "It's a week too late to talk of setting right." "Go and tell her you are sorry, my lord--that will be enough for her." "Ah! but there's more than her concerned."