I
have lived in your life; and now, for the sake of a simple,
pretty, foolish girl, you have forsaken me--you have
deliberately trampled upon every hope that I had."
"Let me atone for it," cried Ronald. "I never thought of these
things."
"You can not atone," said Lord Earle, gravely. "I can never
trust you again. From this time forth I have no son. My heir
you must be when the life you have darkened ends. My son is dead
to me."
There was no anger in the stern, grave face turned toward the
unhappy young man.
"I never broke my word," he continued, "and never shall. You
have chosen your own path; take it. You preferred this Dora to
me; go to her. I told you if you persisted in your folly, I
would never look upon your face again, and I never will."
"Oh, Rupert!" cried Lady Earle; "be merciful. He is my only
child. I shall die if you send him from me."
"He preferred this Dora to you or to me," said Lord Earle. "I am
sorry for you, Helena--Heaven knows it wrings my heart--but I
shall not break my word! I will not reproach you," he continued,
turning to his son, "it would be a waste of time and words; you
knew the alternative, and are doubtless prepared for it.
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