“And do you believe all this, Trevelyan?”
Of course, Trevelyan did not believe it, and was profuse in his apologies, for having permitted himself to doubt for a moment that the writer was bereft of reason. This confirmed Mr. D’Alton in his course and he at once denounced his sister-in-law in no measured terms, vowing to punish her for her irresponsible utterances. The news that Miss Wilson had written to Captain Trevelyan’s friends in England made D’Alton furious, and he swore a fearful oath that he would place her where her ravings would harm no one but herself. All night long he thought over schemes for getting rid of her, and at length he concocted a plan which he speedily put into execution.
As was said before, Mrs. D’Alton and her sister were orphans and they both left their adopted parents early in life, having lived under assumed names for years, and severed all connection with their former associates. During Mrs. D’Alton’s lifetime her sister was forbidden to approach the house, and on the death of the former Miss Wilson was not recognized by her brother-in-law. The children had never seen or known their aunt, and the people with whom she had last resided in Montreal (in the capacity of nursery-governess) had known her as Miss Rogers, and had lately lost all trace of her whereabouts.
Taking the early train for Toronto, Mr. D’Alton took counsel of an astute lawyer, and learned that, as events had been shapen, Miss Wilson would have now great difficulty in proving her connection with the D’Alton family, did he choose to deny it, and that the fact of her having written such letters as those received by Trevelyan and his family would be fair presumptive evidence that the woman was insane.
Carefully considering his position, D’Alton determined on his course of proceeding. He was averse to a public prosecution, as many things, now unknown or forgotten, might be brought to light, and yet he felt that the woman must be effectually silenced by some means or other. Going to her residence he boldly demanded an interview with her, and, producing the letter to Trevelyan, asked if she had written it. Miss Wilson laughed as she saw the effect of her shot, and exultantly exclaimed:—“Of course I wrote it; who else could have done it?”
“And are you aware that you are liable to be prosecuted for libel?” pursued D’Alton.
“It is no libel,” retorted she, fiercely; “you know it is true, or you would not be here now.”
“Indeed! can you prove it, then?”
“I have no need to prove it to you. Your very facial expression acknowledges it to be true.”
“Will that satisfy the jury?”