uncle Silas. It quite agreed with what my father had said. These principles
and his increasing years would necessarily quiet the turbulence of his
resistance to injustice, and teach him to acquiesce in his fate.

You would have fancied that one so young as I, born to wealth so vast, and
living a life of such entire seclusion, would have been exempt from care.
But you have seen how troubled my life was with fear and anxiety during the
residence of Madame de la Rougierre, and now there rested upon my mind a
vague and awful anticipation of the trial which my father had announced,
without defining it.

An 'ordeal' he called it, requiring not only zeal but nerve, which might
possibly, were my courage to fail, become frightful, and even intolerable.
What, and of what nature, could it be? Not designed to vindicate the fair
fame of the meek and submissive old man--who, it seemed, had ceased to care
for his bygone wrongs, and was looking to futurity--but the reputation of
our ancient family.

Sometimes I repented my temerity in having undertaken it. I distrusted my
courage. Had I not better retreat, while it was yet time? But there was
shame and even difficulty in the thought. How should I appear before my
father? Was it not important--had I not deliberately undertaken it--and was
I not bound in conscience? Perhaps he had already taken steps in the matter
which committed _him_. Besides, was I sure that, even were I free again, I
would not once more devote myself to the trial, be it what it might?
You perceive I had more spirit than courage. I think I had the mental
attributes of courage; but then I was but a hysterical girl, and in so far
neither more nor less than a coward.

No wonder I distrusted myself; no wonder also my will stood out against