contrived to leave her glamour over me, and now and then the memory of
her parting menaces would return with an unexpected pang of fear.

My father never alluded again to Madame de la Rougierre, but, whether
connected with her exposure and dismissal or not, there appeared to be
some new trouble at work in his mind.

"I am anxious about you, Maud," he said. "_You_ are more interested than
_I_ can be in vindicating his character."

"Whose character, sir?" I ventured to inquire during the pause that
followed.

"Whose? Your Uncle Silas's. In course of nature he must survive me. He
will then represent the family name. Would you make some sacrifice to
clear that name, Maud?"

I answered briefly; but my face, I believe, showed my enthusiasm.

"I can tell you, Maud, if my life could have done it, it should not have
been undone. But I had almost made up my mind to leave all to time to
illuminate, or _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? Your Uncle Silas,"
he said, speaking suddenly in loud and fierce tones that sounded almost
terrible, "lies under an intolerable slander. He troubles himself little
about it; he is selfishly sunk in futurity--a feeble visionary. I am not
so. The character and influence of an ancient family are a peculiar
heritage--sacred, but destructible. You and I, we'll leave one proof on
record which, fairly read, will go far to convince the world."