CHAPTER LIII
_AN ODD PROPOSAL_
As I and Mary Quince returned from our walk that day, and had entered the
hall, I was surprised most disagreeably by Dudley's emerging from the
vestibule at the foot of the great staircase. He was, I suppose, in his
travelling costume--a rather soiled white surtout, a great coloured muffler
in folds about his throat, his 'chimney-pot' on, and his fur cap sticking
out from his pocket. He had just descended, I suppose, from my uncle's
room. On seeing me he stepped back, and stood with his shoulders to the
wall, like a mummy in a museum.
I pretended to have a few words to say to Mary before leaving the hall,
in the hope that, as he seemed to wish to escape me, he would take the
opportunity of getting quickly off the scene.
But he had changed his mind, it would seem, in the interval; for when I
glanced in that direction again he had moved toward us, and stood in the
hall with his hat in his hand. I must do him the justice to say he looked
horribly dismal, sulky, and frightened.
'Ye'll gi'e me a word, Miss--only a thing I ought to say--for your good; by
----, mind, it's for _your_ good, Miss.
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