. My brother Lionel has been here."

"Indeed!"

"Nay, look not so. He insisted on knowing the reason of my altered
appearance."

"And no doubt you made him acquainted with the cause. You told him
_your_ version of the story."

"Not a word, as I hope to live."

"A lie!"

"By my truth, no."

"A lie, I say. He avouched it to me himself."

"Impossible! He could not--would not disobey me."

Sir Reginald laughed bitterly.

"He would not, I am sure, give utterance to any scandal," continued Lady
Rookwood. "You say this but to try me, do you not?--ha! what is this?
Your hand is bloody. You have not harmed him? Whose blood is this?"

"Your brother spat upon my check. I have washed out the stain," replied
Sir Reginald, coldly.

"Then it _is_ his blood!" shrieked Lady Rookwood, pressing her hand
shuddering before her eyes. "Is he dead?"

Sir Reginald turned away.

"Stay," she cried, exerting her feeble strength to retain him, and
becoming white as ashes, "abide and hear me. You have killed me, I feel,
by your cruelty. I am sinking fast--dying. I, who loved you, only you;
yes, one besides--my brother, and you have slain _him_. Your hands are
dripping in his blood, and I have kissed them--have clasped them! And
now," continued she, with an energy that shook Sir Reginald, "I hate
you--I renounce you--forever! May my dying words ring in your ears on
your death-bed, for that hour _will_ come. You cannot shun _that_. Then
think of _him_! think of _me_!"

"Away!" interrupted Sir Reginald, endeavoring to shake her off.

"I will _not_ away! I will cling to you--will curse you. My unborn child
shall live to curse you--to requite you--to visit my wrongs on you and
yours. Weak as I am, you shall not cast me off. You shall learn to fear
even _me_."

"I fear nothing living, much less a frantic woman."

"Fear the _dead_, then."

There was a struggle--a blow--and the wretched lady sank, shrieking,
upon the floor. Convulsions seized her. A mother's pains succeeded
fierce and fast. She spoke no more, but died within the hour, giving
birth to a female child.

Eleanor Rookwood became her father's idol--her father's bane. All the
love he had to bestow was centred in her. She returned it not. She fled
from his caresses. With all her mother's beauty, she had all her
father's pride. Sir Reginald's every thought was for his daughter--for
her aggrandizement. In vain. She seemed only to endure him, and while
his affection waxed s