"
"And who then was he?" asked Middleton.
"I know not whether you will hate me for telling you," replied Alice,
looking him sadly though firmly in the face. "There was a man--long
years since, in your childhood--whose plotting brain proved the ruin of
himself and many another; a man whose great designs made him a sort of
potentate, whose schemes became of national importance, and produced
results even upon the history of the country in which he acted. That man
was my father; a man who sought to do great things, and, like many who
have had similar aims, disregarded many small rights, strode over them,
on his way to effect a gigantic purpose. Among other men, your father
was trampled under foot, ruined, done to death, even, by the effects of
his ambition."
"How is it possible!" exclaimed Middleton. "Was it Wentworth?"
"Even so," said Alice, still with the same sad calmness and not
withdrawing her steady eyes from his face. "After his ruin; after the
catastrophe that overwhelmed him and hundreds more, he took to flight;
guilty, perhaps, but guilty as a fallen conqueror is; guilty to such an
extent that he ceased to be a cheat, as a conqueror ceases to be a
murderer.
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