He put the question to Miss Silver direct—his eyes blazing right into her own. She made some confused reply, about "leaving immediately."
"In the carriage, of course? Shall I have the honour of driving you?"
"No," said Edwin, decisively.
A fierce, vindictive look passed between the brothers—a look terrible in itself—more terrible in its warning of days to come. No wonder the mother shuddered—no wonder the young betrothed, pale and alarmed, slipped out of the room. Edwin followed her. Then Guy, snatching up his sister, lifted her roughly on his knee.
"Come along, Maud. You'll be my girl now. Nobody else wants you. Kiss me, child."
But the little lady drew back.
"So, you hate me too? Edwin has been teaching you? Very well. Get away, you cheat!"
He pushed her violently aside. Maud began to cry.
Her father looked up from his book—the book he had not been reading—though he had seemingly thought it best to take no notice of what was passing around him.
"Come here, Maud, my child. Guy, you should not be unkind to your little sister. Try and command yourself, my dear boy!"