But to digress thus in the very moment of detection, of recognition, seems irrelevant.  The flash of conviction was as instantaneous in its action in my mind as that of the lightning when it strikes its object.  I stood confounded, yet enlightened, all ablaze!—­but the subject of this discovery did not seem in the least to apprehend it, or to believe it possible, in his mad, mole-like effrontery of self-sufficiency, that by his own track he could be betrayed.

“Vat ansair shall I bear to Mr. Bainrothe from his vard?” asked the Mercury of my Jove, clasping his costumed hands together, then dropping them meekly before him.  “I vait de reply of Miss Monfort vid patience.  Dere is pen, and ink, and papair, I perceive, on dat table.  Be good enough to write at once your reply to de vise conditions of your excellent guardian.”

“You know them, then?” I said, quickly, glancing at him with a derisive scorn that did not escape his observation.

“I have dat honnair,” was the hypocritical reply, accompanied by a profound bow.

“Disgrace, rather,” I substituted.  “But you have your own stand-point of view, of course.  The shield that to you is white, to me is black as Erebus.  You remember the knights of fable?”

“Always the same—­always indomitable!” I heard him murmur, so low that it was marvelous how the words reached my ear, tense as was every sense with disdainful excitement.  Yet he simply said aloud, after his impulsive stage-whisper:  “Excuse me!  I understand not your allusions.  I pretend not to de classics; my leetle pills—­” and he hesitated, or affected to do so.

“Enough—­I waive all apologies; they only prolong an interview singularly distasteful to me for many reasons.  You are behind the curtain, I cannot doubt, and understand not only the contents of that absurd letter, but its unprincipled references.  To Basil Bainrothe I will never address one line; but you may say to him that I scorn him and his conditions.  Yet, helpless as I am, and in his hands, tell him to bring his emancipation papers, and I will sign them, though they cost me all I possess of property.  My sister I will not surrender any longer to his care, nor my right in her, which, with or without his consent, is perfect when I reach my majority.  As to the suitor to whom he alluded, he had better be allowed to speak for himself when this transaction is over.  I shall then decide very calmly on his merits, tarnished, as these might seem, from such recommendation.”

“He is one who has loved you long, lady,” said the man, sadly, speaking ever in that made and husky voice (wonderful actor that he was by nature!), which he sustained so well that, had I not unmistakably identified him, it might have imposed on my ear as real.  “Hear what has been written on this subject:  When others have forsaken you and left you to your fate, he has continued faithful to your memory.  The revelation of your immurement was