y lighting up the
rugged features of a pale old Rembrandt.
'I can tell you, Maud; if my life could have done it, it should not have
been undone--_ubi lapsus, quid feci_. But I had almost made up my mind to
change my plan, and leave all to time--_edax rerum_--to illuminate or
to _consume_. But I think little Maud would like to contribute to the
restitution of her family name. It may cost you something--are you willing
to buy it at a sacrifice? Is there--I don't speak of fortune, that is not
involved--but is there any other honourable sacrifice you would shrink from
to dispel the disgrace under which our most ancient and honourable name
must otherwise continue to languish?'
'Oh, none--none indeed, sir--I am delighted!'
Again I saw the Rembrandt smile.
'Well, Maud, I am sure there is _no_ risk; but you are to suppose there is.
Are you still willing to accept it?'
Again I assented.
'You are worthy of your blood, Maud Ruthyn. It will come soon, and it won't
last long. But you must not let people like Monica Knollys frighten you.'
I was lost in wonder.
'If you allow them to possess you with their follies, you had better recede
in time--they may make the ordeal as terrible as hell itself. You have
zeal--have you nerve?' I thought in such a cause I had nerve for anything.
'Well, Maud, in the course of a few months--and it may be sooner--there
must be a change. I have had a letter from London this morning that assures
me of that. I must then leave you for a time; in my absence be faithful to
the duties that will arise. To whom much is committed, of him will much be
required. You shall promise me not to mention this conversation to Monica
Knollys. If you are a talking girl, and cannot trust yourself, say so, and
we will not ask her to come. Also, don't invite her to talk about your
uncle Silas--I have reasons. Do you quite understand my conditions?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Your uncle Silas,' he said, speaking suddenly in loud and fierce tones
that sounded from so old a man almost terrible, 'lies under an intolerable
slander. I don't correspond with him; I don't sympathise with him; I never
quite did. He has grown religious, and that's well; but there are things in
which even religion should not bring a man to acquiesce; and from what
I can learn, he, the person primarily affected--the cause, though the
innocent cause--of this great calamity--bears it with an easy apathy which
is mistaken, and liable easily to be mista
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