marriage.

You may be sure that we discussed, Milly and I, that occurrence pretty
constantly in all sorts of moods. Limited as had been her experience of
human society, she very clearly saw _now_ how far below its presentable
level was her hopeful brother.

The fortnight sped swiftly, as time always does when something we dislike
and shrink from awaits us at its close. I never saw Uncle Silas during that
period. It may seem odd to those who merely read the report of our last
interview, in which his manner had been more playful and his talk more
trifling than in any other, that from it I had carried away a profounder
sense of fear and insecurity than from any other. It was with a foreboding
of evil and an awful dejection that on a very dark day, in Milly's room,
I awaited the summons which I was sure would reach me from my punctual
guardian.

As I looked from the window upon the slanting rain and leaden sky, and
thought of the hated interview that awaited me, I pressed my hand to my
troubled heart, and murmured, 'O that I had wings like a dove! then would I
flee away, and be at rest.'

Just then the prattle of the parrot struck my ear. I looked round on the
wire cage, and remembered the words, 'The bird's name is Maud.'

'Poor bird!' I said. 'I dare say, Milly, it longs to get out. If it were a
native of this country, would not you like to open the window, and then the
door of that cruel cage, and let the poor thing fly away?'

'Master wants Miss Maud,' said Wyat's disagreeable tones, at the half-open
door.

I followed in silence, with the pressure of a near alarm at my heart, like
a person going to an operation.

When I entered the room, my heart beat so fast that I could hardly speak.
The tall form of Uncle Silas rose before me, and I made him a faltering
reverence.

He darted from under his brows a wild, fierce glance at old Wyat, and
pointed to the door imperiously with his skeleton finger. The door shut,
and we were alone.

'A chair?' he said, pointing to a seat.

'Thank you, uncle, I prefer standing,' I faltered.

He also stood--his white head bowed forward, the phosphoric glare of his
strange eyes shone upon me from under his brows--his finger-nails just
rested on the table.

'You saw the luggage corded and addressed, as it stands ready for removal
in the hall?' he asked.

I had. Milly and I had read the cards which dangled from the trunk-handles
and gun-case. The address was--'Mr. Dudley R. Ruth