“You have not answered my question yet. Is this, or is it not, your doing?”
She hesitated a moment, and then spoke out distinctly. “I found Aunt Briscoe offended with Uncle Robert for no reason. She seemed to think he had treated her wrongly; and he had not. I was able to set that right. How could I do less?”
A strong expression broke from Churton’s lips. “You did enough, any way,” he said fiercely. “Enough for yourself and for me too! I’ll have nothing more to do with you! Do you hear? You may find a home where you will. I’ll have no more to say to you. And if ever you’re in trouble, you needn’t come to me! I don’t want to see your face again. Do you hear?”
He pushed her roughly from him, and strode out of the room. But for Robert’s quick support she would have lost her balance, and fallen backwards. He threw an arm round her protectingly, and she burst into tears.
“Poor child!” the old lawyer said kindly. “She is well out of his hands.”
“Maimie, dear child, never mind; you are ours now,” Robert whispered. “He gives you up to us.”
But I think the strain of the last few weeks must have been severe. Maimie seemed so shaken and hysterical, that I made her go upstairs and lie down on her bed. She held my hand tightly, whispering,—“Don’t go! Don’t leave me!”
[CHAPTER XXVIII.]
OUR CHILD.
I SAT down beside the bed, and drew Maimie within my arms, letting her soft cheek rest against mine.