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The Master of Silence by Irving Bacheller
page 58 of 123 (47%)

"They won't hurt you," said I, subduing my desire to laugh
at his remark.

Such unfamiliar exposure to the public eye soon began to
grate upon his nerves. I did not wonder at it, for nearly
every one we met took a second look at his commanding
figure, and some stared at him rudely. Remembering my own
emotions when I first stood in his presence, I was not at
all surprised that others were moved in a like manner. His
were a face and form that stood out like those of some
heroic statue in the throng of common mortals.

The proving and recording of the will was left entirely in
the hands of a reputable lawyer, who said that these
formalities would not detain us longer than a week.

We had determined to spend the winter in New York before
going to England. Since reaching America my time had been
quite filled with work until my entrance upon the utter
isolation of my uncle's home. It was my earnest desire to
see something of the big metropolis on the western Atlantic.
Moreover, Mr. Earl had advised me in his letters to give
Rayel a chance to know more of life in his own country
before bringing him to England.

When at last the faithful old mute had gone to his new home,
and we had turned our backs upon the silent and deserted
mansion, Rayel was moved to bitter tears. The thought of its
loneliness, now that its master was dead and we were leaving
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