'I cannot answer you; you are wiser than I am, but I do not think you can see my heart.'
'I see,' he said, with a glance at my mother's white face, 'things which you do not seem to comprehend.'
'The time may come,' she retorted, 'when you will be more just towards me, and I must wait until then.'
'Well, well,' he said, with a sigh; 'you say it is bitter to be dependent upon those who hate you. Leave me out of the question. My sister loves you; Chris loves you. Can you not be content with this, and let me go my way?'
'No; for I have been dependent upon you, not upon them.'
'Have I ever said a word which led you to believe I begrudged you shelter here?'
'Never; but we do not judge always by words.'
She seemed to have caught uncle Bryan's talent for short crisp sentences, in which there was much truth.
'Go on with your explanation,' he said.
She turned to my mother.