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Updated: July 3, 2025
Then the guests came out of the house, and their black figures disappeared one by one from the moonlight as they shook hands and said good-night. Shortly after Brian came down the path with Frettlby at his side, and Madge hanging on her father's arm. Frettlby opened the gate and held out his hand. "Good-night, Fitzgerald," he said, in a hearty voice; "come soon again."
But, to his annoyance, when the gentlemen went into the drawing-room, Frettlby took the old colonist off to his study, where he sat with him the whole evening talking over old times. Fitzgerald found Madge seated at the piano in the drawing-room playing one of Mendelssohn's Songs without Words.
I've had a hell upon earth since I killed Whyte." "Then you acknowledge your guilt?" said Brian, quietly. Moreland shrugged his shoulders. "I told you I wasn't a coward," he answered, coolly. "Yes, I did it; it was Whyte's own fault. When I met him that night he told me how Frettlby wouldn't let him marry his daughter, but said he'd make him, and showed me the marriage certificate.
"Rosanna Moore!" There was a sharp exclamation as Sal said the name, and, turning round quickly, Madge found Brian standing beside her, pale as death, with his eyes fixed on the woman, who had risen to her feet. "Go on!" he said sharply. "That's all I know," she replied, in a sullen tone. Brian gave a sigh of relief. "You can go," he said slowly; "I wish to speak with Miss Frettlby alone."
"And who was Rosanna?" asked Felix, curiously, looking up. "A dancer and burlesque actress," replied Valpy, vivaciously, nodding his old head. "Such a beauty; we were all mad about her such hair and eyes. You remember her, Frettlby?" "Yes," answered the host, in a curiously dry voice. But before Mr.
Her lover, however, did not second the invitation, but stood moodily twisting his tawny moustache, and staring out into the garden in an absent sort of manner. "What do you say, Fitzgerald?" said Frettlby, who was eyeing him keenly. "Oh, delighted, of course," answered Brian, confusedly. "In that case," returned the other, coolly, "I will tell you what we will do.
"Writing," returned her father laconically, as he gently removed her arms. "Why, I thought you were ill," she answered, looking at him apprehensively. "No, dear," he replied, quietly. "Not ill, but worried." "I knew that dreadful man who came last night had told you something to worry you. Who is he?" "Oh! a friend of mine," answered Frettlby, with hesitation. "What Roger Moreland?"
Brian was seated opposite to Madge, and every now and then he caught a glimpse of her bright face from behind the fruit and flowers, which stood in the centre of the table. Mark Frettlby was at the head of the table, and appeared in very good spirits. His stern features were somewhat relaxed, and he drank more wine than usual.
"Knew her father letter of introduction, and all that sort of thing," said Mr. Moreland, glibly. "Ah! indeed," said Mr. Gorby, slowly. "So Mr. Whyte knew Mark Frettlby, the millionaire; but how did he obtain a photograph of the daughter?" "She gave it to him," said Moreland. "The fact is, Whyte was very much in love with Miss Frettlby." "And she "
"Look here," he said, at length, to Brian, in an angry voice; "if you want my opinion of your conduct I think it's infamous begging your pardon, Miss Frettlby, for the expression. Here is this noble gill, who loves you with her whole heart, and is ready to sacrifice everything for your sake, comes to implore you to save your life, and you coolly turn round and acknowledge another woman."
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