'I wish, Cousin Monica,' I said, drawing close to her, 'you had not said
_that_ about Uncle Silas being like a wizard, and sending his spirits
on the wind to listen. But I'm very glad you never suspected him.' I
insinuated my cold hand into hers, and looked into her face I know not with
what expression. She looked down into mine with a hard, haughty stare, I
thought.
'Of _course_ I never suspected him; and _never_ ask me _that_ question
again, Maud Ruthyn.'
Was it family pride, or what was it, that gleamed so fiercely from her eyes
as she said this? I was frightened--I was wounded--I burst into tears.
'What is my darling crying for? I did not mean to be cross. _Was_ I
cross?' said this momentary phantom of a grim Lady Knollys, in an instant
translated again into kind, pleasant Cousin Monica, with her arms about my
neck.
'No, no, indeed--only I thought I had vexed you; and, I believe, thinking
of Uncle Silas makes me nervous, and I can't help thinking of him nearly
always.' 'Nor can I, although we might both easily find something better to
think of. Suppose we try?' said Lady Knollys.
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