Now bring them here." "I am not accustomed, my lord, to this treatment." Lord Atherton's face flushed, his eyes seemed to flame fire.
"Not a word; bring them to me! You have traded for the last time upon a woman's weakness and fears.

I will read the letters, then I will tell you what I think of you." "Better tell your wife," sneered the other, "what you think of her." "My wife is a lady," was the quiet reply--"a lady for whom I have the greatest honor, respect and esteem.

Your lips simply sully her name, and I refuse to hear it from you." "She did not always think so," was the sullen reply.

"If you had not stepped in and robbed me, she would have been my wife now." The white anger of that face, and the convulsive movement of the hand that held the heavy whip, might have warned him.
"I want those letters," repeated Lord Atherton; "bring them to me at once.

Remember, they are useless to you; you will never force one mere farthing from Lady Atherton--your keeping them will be useless." "It will be more to my interest to keep them," sneered Allan Lyster; "they are interesting documents, and I can show them to those who will not judge the matter in so onesided a manner as your lordship." "You may publish them, if you please," said Lord Atherton, "but I will take care that every line in them brands you with red hot shame.