"Mother, Helen is right; we should speak out, and not hide this
bitter fact any longer. The world will pity us, and we must bear the
pity, but it would condemn us for deceit, and we should deserve the
condemnation if we let this misery go on. Living a lie will ruin us
all. Bella will be destroyed as Helen was; I am only the shadow of a
man now, and Hal is killing himself as fast as he can, to avoid the
fate we all dread."
Augustine spoke first, for Mrs. Carrol sat speechless with her
trouble as Christie paused.
"Keep to your prayers, and let me go my own way, it's the shortest,"
muttered Harry, with his face hidden, and his head down on his
folded arms.
"Boys, boys, you'll kill me if you say such things! I have more now
than I can bear. Don't drive me wild with your reproaches to each
other!" cried their mother, her heart rent with the remorse that
came too late.
"No fear of that; you are not a Carrol," answered Harry, with the
pitiless bluntness of a resentful and rebellious boy.
Augustine turned on him with a wrathful flash of the eye, and a
warning ring in his stern voice, as he pointed to the door.
"You shall not insult your mother! Ask her pardon, or go!"
"She should ask mine! I'll go.
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