e truth,' I said.
'Well, it may be that is the best,' she replied, with provoking coolness.
'You think I don't mean it?'
'Of course you _do_,' she replied.
'And we shall see what my uncle thinks of it.'
'We shall see, my dear,' she replied, with an air of mock contrition.
'Adieu, Madame!'
'You are going to Monsieur Ruthyn?--very good!'
I made her no answer, but more agitated than I cared to show her, I left
the room. I hurried along the twilight passage, and turned into the long
gallery that opened from it at right angles. I had not gone half-a-dozen
steps on my return when I heard a heavy tread and a rustling behind me.
'I am ready, my dear; I weel accompany you,' said the smirking phantom,
hurrying after me.
'Very well,' was my reply; and threading our way, with a few hesitations
and mistakes, we reached and descended the stairs, and in a minute more
stood at my uncle's door.
My uncle looked hard and strangely at us as we entered. He looked, indeed,
as if his temper was violently excited, and glared and muttered to himself
for a few seconds; and treating Madame to a stare of disgust, he asked
peevishly--
'Why am I disturbed, pray?'
'Miss Maud a Ruthyn, she weel explain,' replied Madame, with a great
courtesy, like a boat going down in a ground swell.
'_Will_ you explain, my dear?' he asked, in his coldest and most sarcastic
tone.
I was agitated, and I am sure my statement was confused. I succeeded,
however, in saying what I wanted.
'Why, Madame, this is a grave charge! Do you admit it, pray?'
Madame, with the coolest possible effrontery, denied it all; with the most
solemn asseverations, and with streaming eyes and clasped hands, conjured
me melodramatically to withdraw that intolerable story, and to do her
justice. I stared at her for a while astounded, and turning suddenly to my
uncle, as vehemently asserted the truth of every syllable I had related.
'You hear, my dear child, you hear her deny everything; what am I to think?
You must excuse the bewilderment of my old head. Madame de la--that lady
has arrived excellently recommended by the superioress of the place where
dear Milly awaits you, and such persons are particular. It strikes me, my
dear niece, that you must have made a mistake.'
I protested here. But he went on without seeming to hear the parenthesis--
'I know, my dear Maud, that you are quite incapable of wilfully deceiving
anyone; but you are liable to be decei
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