“By all means, I prefer to say nothing about them myself.”
“But, Miss Dalton, I feel confounded and bewildered. I can not understand you even yet. Do you really mean to say that you, the mistress of these estates, the heiress, the lady of Dalton Hall—that you are restricted in this way and by him?”
“It is all most painfully true,” said Edith. “It almost breaks my heart to think of such a humiliation, but it is true. I have been here for months, literally a prisoner. I have absolutely no communication with my friends, or with the outside world. This man Wiggins declares that he is my guardian, and can do as he chooses. He says that a guardian has as much authority over his ward as a father over his child.”
“Oh! I think I understand. He may be partly right, after all. You are young yet, you know. You are not of age.”
“I am of age,” said Edith, mournfully, “and that is what makes it so intolerable. If I were under age I might bear it for a time. There might then appear to be, at least, the show of right on his side. But as it is, there is nothing but might. He has imprisoned me. He has put me under surveillance. I am watched at this moment.”
“Who? where?” exclaimed Dudleigh, looking hastily around.
“Oh, in the woods—a black named Hugo. He tracks me like a blood-hound, and never loses sight of me when I am out. He may not hear what we are saying, but he will tell his master that I have spoken with you.”
“Are there spies in the Hall?”
“Oh yes; his housekeeper watches me always.”
“Is there no place where we can talk without being seen or heard? Believe me, Miss Dalton, your situation fills me with grief and pity. All this is so unexpected, so strange, so incredible!”