ity very unusual to him, and as
if anxious to waive unnecessary explanations, began as follows, with a
serious and impressive voice and aspect:--

"Maltravers, of late years we have been estranged from each other. I
do not presume to dictate to you your friendships or your dislikes. Why
this estrangement has happened you alone can determine. For my part I am
conscious of no offence; that which I was I am still. It is you who have
changed. Whether it be the difference of our political opinions, or any
other and more secret cause, I know not. I lament, but it is now too
late to attempt to remove it. If you suspect me of ever seeking, or even
wishing, to sow dissension between yourself and my ill-fated cousin, now
no more, you are mistaken. I ever sought the happiness and union of you
both. And yet, Maltravers, you then came between me and an early and
cherished dream. But I suffered in silence; my course was at least
disinterested, perhaps generous: let it pass. A second time you cross my
path,--you win from me a heart I had long learned to consider mine. You
have no scruple of early friendship, you have no forbearance towards
acknowledged and affianced ties. You are my rival with Evelyn Cameron,
and your suit has prospered."

"Vargrave," said Maltravers, "you have spoken frankly; and I will reply
with an equal candour. A difference of tastes, tempers, and opinions led
us long since into opposite paths. I am one who cannot disunite public
morality from private virtue. From motives best known to you, but which
I say openly I hold to have been those of interest or ambition, you did
not change your opinions (there is no sin in that), but retaining them
in private, professed others in public, and played with the destinies of
mankind as if they were but counters to mark a mercenary game. This led
me to examine your character with more searching eyes; and I found it
one I could no longer trust. With respect to the Dead, let the pall drop
over that early grave,--I acquit you of all blame. He who sinned has
suffered more than would atone the crime! You charge me with my love to
Evelyn. Pardon me, but I seduced no affection, I have broken no tie. Not
till she was free in heart and in hand to choose between us, did I hint
at love. Let me think that a way may be found to soften one portion at
least of the disappointment you cannot but feel acutely."

"Stay!" said Lord Vargrave (who, plunged in a gloomy revery, had
scarcely seemed