You remember how, just
as he was probably writing that very postscript yesterday, I was urging you
to come and stay with me, and planning to move Dr. Bryerly in our favour.
And so I will, Maud, and to me you _shall_ come--my guest, mind--I should
be so delighted; and really if Silas is under a cloud, it has been his own
doing, and I don't see that it is your business to fight his battle. He
can't live very long. The suspicion, whatever it is dies with him, and what
could poor dear Austin prove by his will but what everybody knew quite well
before--his own strong belief in Silas's innocence? What an awful storm!
The room trembles. Don't you like the sound? What they used to call
'wolving' in the old organ at Dorminster!'
CHAPTER XXVI
_THE STORY OF UNCLE SILAS_
And so it was like the yelling of phantom hounds and hunters, and the
thunder of their coursers in the air--a furious, grand and supernatural
music, which in my fancy made a suitable accompaniment to the discussion of
that enigmatical person--martyr--angel--demon--Uncle Silas--with whom my
fate was now so strangely linked, and whom I had begun to fear.
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