’RESPECTED MADAM,—­I this day saw Mr. Silas Ruthyn at Bartram-Haugh, and he peremptorily refuses, on any terms, to vacate the guardianship, or to consent to Miss Ruthyn’s residing anywhere but under his own immediate care.  As he bases his refusal, first upon a conscientious difficulty, declaring that he has no right, through fear of personal contingencies, to abdicate an office imposed in so solemn a way, and so naturally devolving on him as only brother to the deceased; and secondly upon the effect such a withdrawal, at the instance of the acting trustee, would have upon his own character, amounting to a public self-condemnation; and as he refused to discuss these positions with me, I could make no way whatsoever with him.  Finding, therefore, that his mind was quite made up, after a short time I took my leave.  He mentioned that preparations for his niece’s reception are being completed, and that he will send for her in a few days; so that I think it will be advisable that I should go down to Knowl, to assist Miss Ruthyn with any advice she may require before her departure, to discharge servants, get inventories made, and provide for the care of the place and grounds during her minority.

’I am, respected Madam, yours truly,

HANS E. BRYERLY.’

I can’t describe to you how chapfallen and angry my cousin looked.  She sniffed once or twice, and then said, rather bitterly, in a subdued tone:—­

‘Well, now; I hope you are pleased?’

’No, no, no; you know I’m not—­grieved to the heart, my only friend, my dear Cousin Monica; but my conscience is at rest; you don’t know what a sacrifice it is; I am a most unhappy creature.  I feel an indescribable foreboding.  I am frightened; but you won’t forsake me, Cousin Monica.’

‘No, darling, never,’ she said, sadly.

‘And you’ll come and see me, won’t you, as often as you can?’

‘Yes, dear; that is if Silas allows me; and I’m sure he will,’ she added hastily, seeing, I suppose, my terror in my face.  ’All I can do, you may be sure I will, and perhaps he will allow you to come to me, now and then, for a short visit.  You know I am only six miles away—­little more than half an hour’s drive, and though I hate Bartram, and detest Silas—­Yes, I detest Silas,’ she repeated in reply to my surprised gaze—­’I will call at Bartram—­that is, I say, if he allows me; for, you know, I haven’t been there for a quarter of a century; and though I never understood Silas, I fancy he forgives no sins, whether of omission or commission.’

I wondered what old grudge could make my cousin judge Uncle Silas always so hardly—­I could not suppose it was justice.  I had seen my hero indeed lately so disrespectfully handled before my eyes, that he had, as idols will, lost something of his sacredness.  But as an article of faith, I still cultivated my trust in his divinity, and dismissed every intruding doubt with an exorcism, as a suggestion of the evil one.  But I wronged Lady Knollys in suspecting her of pique, or malice, or anything more than that tendency to take strong views which some persons attribute to my sex.