'
'Now, Cousin Monica, is this fair? You and Doctor Bryerly both talk in the
same awful way to me; and I assure you, you don't know how nervous I am
sometimes, and yet you won't, either of you, say what you mean. Now,
Monica, dear cousin, won't you tell me?'
'You see, dear, it is so lonely; it's a strange place, and he so odd. I
don't like the place, and I don't like him. I've tried, but I can't, and I
think I never shall. He may be a very--what was it that good little silly
curate at Knowl used to call him?--a very advanced Christian--that is it,
and I hope he is; but if he is only what he used to be, his utter seclusion
from society removes the only check, except personal fear--and he never had
much of that--upon a very bad man. And you must know, my dear Maud, what a
prize you are, and what an immense trust it is.'
Suddenly Cousin Monica stopped short, and looked at me as if she had gone
too far.
'But, you know, Silas may be very good _now_, although he was wild and
selfish in his young days. Indeed I don't know what to make of him; but I
am sure when you have thought it over, you will agree with me and Doctor
Bryerly, that you must not stay here.
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