Whatever the subject that engrossed his thoughts, it was not a pleasant one. That could be easily seen by the lines of care upon his brow, the furrows of anxiety--the evidence of a great trouble--that were plainly written upon his face. A look of intense anger settled down upon it. He clinched his white hands fiercely, and the deep, dark eyes gleamed like fire.
"To think of it all!" he muttered, harshly--"all that I have borne for long years! The horror--the agony of it! To think of _her_--the woman I loved, who duped me, deceived me, made a mock of me! But I canceled the account between us and wiped out the score!" he went on, with a fiendish chuckle, rubbing his hands together as he spoke. "I paid her back, word for word, blow for blow! When I remember _all_--when I think of that death-scene--I--I feel amply satisfied. For all the suffering she caused me, she suffered fourfold. And was it not almost miraculous that the man who won her away from me--the man who had been my best friend, who had deceived me and fooled me to the top of my bent--in short, Guy Kenyon himself--should have been placed in my hands--at my mercy! He never realized the bliss that would have been his. His cup of happiness was snatched from his grasp before he could raise it to his lips, for she--she _died_--ha! ha!--_died_! and no one knows--no one but old Bernard Dane will ever know--how and where she died. Poor child! After all these long years, can it be that _pity_ has come to life within this hardened old heart of mine? But I can not help it, when I remember how they forced her into an unholy marriage with that old man. But still there were compensations, for when her babe was six months old he departed this life, leaving all his worldly possessions to his beautiful young widow and her infant child. Then Guy Kenyon, a widower with one son, came to the fore with his handsome face and winning ways. She had known him and cared for him previous to her ill-starred marriage with old Godfrey Dane, and it did not take long to revive old feeling, to warm over the ashes of the old love, from which the new arose like a phenix.
"Married or single, bound or free, it was all the same, she never cared for me. And Guy Kenyon would have wedded her if fate had not interfered--fate in the person of old Bernard Dane. Ha! ha! Bernard Dane--but not so old and ugly then as he is now. _He_ appeared, and in his possession proof positive of the awful curse which rested upon her--upon Mildred Dane. He loved her--there was no doubt upon that score--he loved her, and the knowledge of this fearful curse which rested upon the woman he loved _killed_ him. He did not long survive the fearful knowledge of her secret. Then came the grand _finale_. I placed his child Keith, then a boy of ten or eleven, in the care of respectable people, after which I turned my attention to _her_--to Mildred. I had sworn that she should be my wife or nobody's. But even I, with all my great love for her, could not, dared not, make her my wife with the knowledge of that fearful, that hideous curse hanging over her like a pall. I do not like to recall that time," the old man went on, wearily, pushing back the scanty locks from his wrinkled brow. "She was like a mad creature when she learned the truth, when I told her all. Poor, heartbroken Mildred! She swore that she would take her own life, and--she kept her oath. Ah, well!"--a fearful shudder convulsing his frame--"it is an awful thing to reflect upon. But I could not blame any living creature, and, above all, a young and beautiful woman, for committing suicide under those circumstances. I risked my own life in keeping near her as I did; but my heart was heavy for her sake, and I could not leave her to meet her awful doom alone. And in return for my self-sacrifices, she hated me, defied me, died without one word of kindness to me. _His_ name--Guy Kenyon's--was the last upon her lips. Was it not enough to harden a man's heart against a woman to whom he had given all, to whom he had dedicated his whole life? Her cruelty to me hardened my heart against her, living and dead. Ay, I even grew to hate her memory. I fell upon my knees and swore by every thing holy that I would be avenged.