'This man is my brother's
son. Ill-met, ill-trained, ill-begotten. If he moves from the spot on
which he stands, or speaks a word above his breath to any person here,
open the window, and call for help!'
'What right have you to give such directions in this house?' asked Jonas
faintly.
'The right of your wrong-doing. Come in there!'
An irrepressible exclamation burst from the lips of Jonas, as Lewsome
entered at the door. It was not a groan, or a shriek, or a word, but was
wholly unlike any sound that had ever fallen on the ears of those who
heard it, while at the same time it was the most sharp and terrible
expression of what was working in his guilty breast, that nature could
have invented.
He had done murder for this! He had girdled himself about with perils,
agonies of mind, innumerable fears, for this! He had hidden his secret
in the wood; pressed and stamped it down into the bloody ground; and
here it started up when least expected, miles upon miles away; known to
many; proclaiming itself from the lips of an old man who had renewed his
strength and vigour as by a miracle, to give it voice against him!
He leaned his hand on the back of a chair, and looked at them.
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