My uncle turned his strange glare, in a sort of scowl of enquiry, upon me.
'Oh!—hey! why this is news. You never told me. Where have you met—eh, Dudley?'
'Never saw her in my days, so far as I'm aweer on,' said the young man.
'No! Well, then, Maud, will you enlighten us?' said Uncle Silas, coldly.
'I did see that young gentleman before,' I faltered.
'Meaning me, ma'am?' he asked, coolly.
'Yes—certainly you. I did, uncle,' answered I.
'And where was it, my dear? Not at Knowl, I fancy. Poor dear Austin did not trouble me or mine much with his hospitalities.'
This was not a pleasant tone to take in speaking of his dead brother and benefactor; but at the moment I was too much engaged upon the one point to observe it.
'I met'—I could not say my cousin—'I met him, uncle—your son—that young gentleman—I saw him, I should say, at Church Scarsdale, and afterwards with some other persons in the warren at Knowl. It was the night our gamekeeper was beaten.'