“But you have not told me why you would not have him speak of the music,” said Arctura, stopping at the foot of the great stair.
“Partly because, if we were to go on to make search for the room, it ought to be kept as quiet as possible, and the talk about the one would draw notice to the other; and partly because I have a hope that the one may even guide us to the other.”
“You will tell me about that afterwards,” said Arctura, and went up the stair.
That night the earl had another of his wandering fits; also all night the wind blew from the south-east.
In the morning Arctura went to him with her proposal. The instant he understood what she wished, his countenance grew black as thunder.
“What!” he cried, “you would go pulling the grand old bulk to pieces for the sake of a foolish tale about the devil and a set of cardplayers! By my soul, I’ll be damned if you do!—Not while I’m above ground at least! That’s what comes of putting such a place in the power of a woman! It’s sacrilege! By heaven, I’ll throw my brother’s will into chancery rather!”
His rage was such as to compel her to think there must be more in it than appeared. The wilderness of the temper she had roused made her tremble, but it also woke the spirit of her race, and she repented of the courtesy she had shown him: she had the right to make what investigations she pleased! Her father would not have left her the property without good reasons for doing so; and of those reasons some might well have lain in the character of the man before her!
Through all this rage the earl read something of what had sent the blood of the Graemes to her cheek and brow.
“I beg your pardon, my love,” he said, “but if he was your father, he was my brother!”
“He is my father!” said Arctura coldly.