Not many; you already know
my story. But I do not know yours, and I cannot die till I do.
What took you into the ravine that evening, Oliver, and why,
having picked up the stick, did you fling it from you and fly back
to the highway? For the reason I ascribed to Scoville? Tell me,
that no cloud may remain between us. Let me know your heart as
well as you now know mine."
The reply brought the blood back into his fading cheek.
"Father, I have already explained all this to Mr. Andrews, and now
I will explain it to you. I never liked Mr. Etheridge as well as
you did, and I brooded incessantly in those days over the
influence which he seemed to exert over you in regard to my future
career. But I never dreamed of doing him a harm, and never
supposed that I could so much as attempt any argument with him on
my own behalf till that very night of infernal complications and
coincidences. The cause of this change was as follows: I had gone
up stairs, you remember, leaving you alone with him as I knew you
desired. How I came to be in the room above I don't remember, but
I was there and leaning out of the window directly over the porch
when you and Mr. Etheridge came out and stood in some final debate
on the steps below. He was talking and you were listening, and
never shall I forget the effect his words and tones had upon me. I
had supposed him devoted to you, and here he was addressing you
tartly and in an ungracious manner which bespoke a man very
different from the one I had been taught to look upon as superior.
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