"In these days it is not so simple to defy the common
conscience--as it once was. I fear indeed that Mr. Faversham has already
lost the respect of decent men!"
"By becoming my agent?"
"Your tool--for actions--cruel, inhuman things--degrading to both you and
him."
She had failed. She knew it! And all that remained was to speak the truth
to him, to defy and denounce him.
Melrose surveyed her.
"The ejectment order has been served at Mainstairs to-day, I believe; and
the police have at last plucked up their courage to turn those shiftless
people out. There, too, I understand, Lady Tatham, you have been
meddling."
"I have been trying to undo some of your wrong-doing," she said, with
emotion. "And now--before I go--you shall not prevent me from saying that
I regard it perhaps as your last and worst crime to have perverted the
conscience of this young man! He has been well thought of till now: a
decent fellow sprung from decent people. You are making an outcast--a
pariah of him. And you think _money_ will compensate him! When you and I
knew each other, Edmund"--the name slipped out--"you had a _mind_--one of
the shrewdest I ever knew. I appeal to that. It is not so much now that
you are wicked or cruel--you are playing the _fool_! And you are teaching
this young man to do the same."
She stood confronting him, holding herself tensely erect--a pale,
imperious figure--the embodiment of all the higher ideals and traditions
of the class to which they both belonged.
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