"You spoke of some plan of yours for the child?"
"My plan for Winifred," I said boldly, though with some inward fear, "was to take her away with me to America, and put her at a convent school, where she should be educated as befits her station in life."
His face grew dark as I spoke, and he flashed upon me one of his old suspicious glances.
"You wanted to take her to America! How am I to know that you are not, after all, an agent sent by Roderick or by some of the mother's people?"
"You have only my word for it," I said, slightly drawing myself up. "I can offer no other proof."
"I suppose it is all right," he replied, with another keen look and a deep sigh; "if not, then has misfortune indeed overtaken me."
This was said as if to himself; and presently, raising his voice, he asked:
"Pray what do they teach at these convent schools?"
"They teach their pupils to be Christian ladies," I answered warmly.
He was silent again for a moment or two, then he went on: