” He said. "Why do you ask?" rejoined the other haughtily. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. He wanted to become a millionaire. ” “Think not,” that young man remarked laconically. . Well, my dear, it is time you stopped wallowing in your sorrows like a common wretch. Roof open —like a Noah’s Ark.
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