“It appeared to me, after long consideration, that the best and wisest course I could adopt would be to bring it to you. I regard myself as being in a sense, and subject always to your authority, one of the child's natural guardians. If I did not view things in that light,” the old lady explained, making elaborate motions with her lips for the distinct enunciation of every word, “I should consider that I was guilty of a sinful neglect of duty.”
“Well,” said Fuller, “as to sinful. But drive on, Miss Blythe.”
“It appeared to me, then,” continued Rachel, “that our plain duty would be to read this together, and to consult upon it.”
“Wheer does the letter come from?” Fuller demanded, with a look of bewilderment.
“I discovered it in the—”
“What!” cried the old fellow, jumping from his chair and staring at her across the table with red face and wrathful eyes.
“I discovered it,” replied Rachel, rising also and facing him with her head thrown back and her youthful eyes flashing, “I discovered it in the music-book which was left last night upon this table. I saw it placed there clandestinely by my niece Ruth.”
“Be you mad, Miss Blythe?” asked Fuller, with a slow solemnity of inquiry which would have made the question richly mirthful to an auditor. “Do you mean to tell me as you go about spyin' after wheer my little wench puts her letters to her sweetheart? Why, fie, fie, ma'am! That's a child's trick, not a bit like a growd-up woman.”
Fuller was astonished, but Rachel's amazement transcended his own.
“And you tell me, John Fuller, that you know the character of this man?”