"
"Sir Charles," said Richard Bassett, faltering for a moment, "I am very
much obliged to you, and I begin to be sorry we are enemies.
Good-morning."
The agitation and terror of this scene nearly killed Lady Bassett on
the spot. She lay all that day in a state of utter prostration.
Meantime Sir Charles put this and that together, but said nothing. He
spoke cheerfully and philosophically to his wife--said it had been a
fearful blow, terrible wrench: but it was all for the best; such a son
as that would have broken his heart before long.
"Ah, but your wasted affections!" groaned Lady Bassett; and her tears
streamed at the thought.
Sir Charles sighed; but said, after a while, "Is affection ever
entirely wasted? My love for that young fool enlarged my heart. There
was a time he did me a deal of good."
But next day, having only herself to think of now, Lady Bassett could
live no longer under the load of deceit. She told Sir Charles Mary
Meyrick had deceived him. "Read this," she said, "and see what your
miserable wife has done, who loved you to madness and crime."
Sir Charles looked at her, and saw in her wasted form and her face
that, if he did read it, he should kill her; so he played the man: he
restrained himself by a mighty effort, and said, "My dear, excuse me;
but on this matter I have more faith in Mary Meyrick's exactness than
in yours.
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