'I have been
writing to Lord Ilbury, your trustee,' he resumed. I ventured to say, my
dear Maud--(for having thoughts of a different arrangement for you, more
suitable under my distressing circumstances, I do not wish to vacate
without some expression of your estimate of my treatment of you while
under my roof)--I ventured to say that you thought me kind, considerate,
indulgent,--may I say so?'
I assented. What could I say?
'I said you had enjoyed our poor way of living here--our rough ways and
liberty. Was I right?'
Again I assented.
'And, in fact, that you had nothing to object against your poor old uncle,
except indeed his poverty, which you forgave. I think I said truth. Did I,
dear Maud?'
Again I acquiesced.
All this time he was fumbling among the papers in his coatpocket.
'That is satisfactory. So I expected you to say,' he murmured. 'I expected
no less.'
On a sudden a frightful change spread across his face. He rose like a
spectre with a white scowl.
'Then how do you account for that?' he shrieked in a voice of thunder, and
smiting my open letter to Lady Knollys, face upward, upon the table.
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