There,
don't be angry: the provocation, it must be allowed, was in your case
greater than mine; but then you pique yourself on your self-control!
However, this Fane did hate me, and told the chaplain of his suspicions;
the good parson was my friend, however, and all might have gone well,
but for this oaf--this idiot Jack--coming down to Carew's in person. He
could never get any coin out of 'Fred,' it appears, by letter; or,
perhaps, he couldn't 'write!' But there he was in the big drawing-room
when I went in last night, and Carew saw his jaw drop at the sight of
me. He had not the sense to shut it even afterward, though I told him he
had made a mistake, and gave him every chance. I could have persuaded
him, indeed, out of his own identity--and much more mine--only that he
appealed to Fane; and then the game was up. It would have made me laugh
had I not been so savage. Carew turned us both out of the house
together. His love of truth would not permit him, it seems, to harbor
us. So Jack and I went to the inn, played _ecarte_ all night, and parted
the best of friends this morning. But I'll be even with that fellow
Fane--yes; by Heaven, I will, if it's a score of years hence!"
Perhaps the light satiric tone which the young man had used throughout
his narrative was little in accordance with the feelings which really
agitated him; but, at all events, his last few words were full of
malignant passion.
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