There was a little pause, both still looking on the handsome man in
top-boots, and I said--

'And why, Mrs. Rusk, is papa always so sad about Uncle Silas?'

'What's that, child?' said my father's voice, very near. I looked round,
with a start, and flushed and faltered, receding a step from him.

'No harm, dear. You have said nothing wrong,' he said gently, observing
my alarm. 'You said I was always sad, I think, about Uncle Silas. Well,
I don't know how you gather that; but if I were, I will now tell you, it
would not be unnatural. Your uncle is a man of great talents, great faults,
and great wrongs. His talents have not availed him; his faults are long ago
repented of; and his wrongs I believe he feels less than I do, but they are
deep. Did she say any more, madam?' he demanded abruptly of Mrs. Rusk.

'Nothing, sir,' with a stiff little courtesy, answered Mrs. Rusk, who stood
in awe of him.

'And there is no need, child,' he continued, addressing himself to me,
'that you should think more of him at present. Clear your head of Uncle
Silas. One day, perhaps, you will know him--yes, very well--and understand
how villains have injured him.

Then my father retired, and at the door he said--

'Mrs. Rusk, a word, if you please,' beckoning to that lady, who trotted
after him to the library.

I think he then laid some injunction upon the housekeeper, which was