The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1889-03-06
GUILDEROY
AtOUIDKM n
Author of "Under Two Flags" 1.-TWO Lit
tie Wooden Shoes" "Chandos,"
"Don Gesualdo," Etc.
GSOw hr.t published. All rights rsservsd.I
CHAPTER LIV.

he had known before, but carrying with
him in his soul the thorns of a restless
disquietude and of an impotent regret.
He reached London in the morning and
went straight to Balfrons house. Parlia-
ment had met and Aubrey was in town.
There was heavy rain falling, and the
air was full OF ice and sleet. The streets
at that early hour were deserted. The
city seemed a vast, colorless, smoking
city of the dead.
Aubrey had risen with the day, after an
hour or two's rest after a prolonged de-
bate. He was in his study, walk
ing up and down the room and dictat-
ing to his secretaries before he broke his
fast. The yellow and sickly air poured
through the chamber, dark with book
shelves and bronzes and tables laden and
Uttered with documents of all kinds.
When he saw his cousin enter he
paused in the dictation OF his letters and
stood still, without any word of gesture or
greeting
''Can see you alone for a moment?'
asked Guilderoy as he entered.
Aubrey motioned TO the young men to
leave them; they passed into the large
library beyond and closed the door.
Aubrey still spoke no word. He stood
erect, the habitual stoop in his great
hight changed to stateliness that was
almost stiffness. He never held out his
hand or said any syllable of greeting or OF
inquiry, his features were cold and stern.
Guilderoy needed neither his attitude
nor his expression.
Twelve months and more had passed by
since they had met at Venice and had
parted with unuttered but mutual hostil-
ity and offense. The knowledge which
he had of Aubrey's certain scorn and con-
demnation Of him gave to him an hauteur
and an impervious im mpatience which
seemed to his cousin mere arrogance, and
unbecoming, insolent and out OF place.
Guilderoy was very pale, and his eyes
looked sleepless, but he had the manner
and the courage of a man who arraigns
another for wrong done to him, and is
very far from all confession of error in
himself
II am about to put to you a question
which no man answers" he said rapidly
and without preface of explanation OF his
appearance there. "At least no man an
swers in the affirmative. But whether
affirmative or denial be in your case the
truth, expect the truth from you, hav-
ing regard to the blood relationship be-
tween us and the position in which We
have always stood to one another"
Aubrey looked him full in the eyes.
What is your question ?" he asked IN
his coldest voice; passing expression of
jneffable disdain came over his features as
he spoke.
1T is very simple one," said Guide
roy. "Are you, as the world says, my
Rife's lover?'
Aubrey's eyes met his fully.
''I certainly need not answer" he re-
piled with grave rebuke and scorn in
his voice and in his gaze "You have lost
all title to put such question"
Il have not lost the right, since she
bears my name"
''You have lost it morally, not legally.
You could not be so ungenerous as to re-
fuse a liberty which you take"
Guilderoy's face flushed hotly.
If you prevaricate, | shall consider pre-
varication admission.
Aubrey smiled slightly; a very cold,
contemptuous smile.
'It is not my habit to prevaricate.
answer your question, though l shall re-
fuse to admit your title to put it to me. /
am not your wife's lover, and il you had
the slightest knowledge of your wife's
character you would not come to me on
such an errand."
Guilderoy was silent He did not doubt
the truth of the speaker; the whole
country would have taken Aubreys word
unwitnessed against that of all other men;
but he was dissatisfied.
"If you deny that you are her lover"
he said, after long silence, "you cannot
deny that you have for her feeling which
is far beyond friendship; that you visit
her in her solitude; that your assiduous
attentions to her are matter of notoriety."
Gam bound to account to you for feel
ings unuttered TO any human ear? Am
bound to respect for you ties which you
have yourself strained to rupture? BY
what title do you come here? You have
forsaken your wife utterly. You have
told me that she was wearisome, unsympa-
thetic, Indifferent to you. What is it to
you what / feel for her, or what l do not
feel2 | deny your right to attempt to
penetrate my feelings, or to arraign my
acts"
lie spoke with force which was almost
violence, and with a scorn which pene-
trated the very innermost fbers OF his
hearers nerves
'In every syllable of your answer you
confess what you feel ~ he said with equal
violence. 81 may have no title to COM
mand my wife's affections; 1 never pos
sessed them; but she is the holder OF my
name, and my name is dear to me, and no
man shall play with it without being COM
PEELED 10 atone to me"
Aubery looked at him with unspeakable
disdain
"Whas would you do? What could
you do? A man who has abandoned his
wife cannot challenge either her enemies
or her lovers; he is nothing in her life.
II / were to her what you suppose, what
could you say to me in common decency
or justice? l should but have filed up
the place you left vacant. l should have
but soothed the wounds which you caused.
You would have no shadow of title to
arraign me for it. Even the world itself
would prefer my errors to yours; would
admit that you had but the payment that
YOU merited."
II care neither what the world would
say nor what you would think" said
Guilderoy, now white with passion. IL
care for the honor of my name, and l
should not pause either for your relation
ship TO me or for the admirable luciGity of
your reasonings If | believed that you had
done me any wrong which would make
me absurd and degraded before other
men,"
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