“No, dear; for the use you require it for it is downright riches. But, be it riches or be it penury, you get no more.”
Evelyn looked full at her uncle; her uncle looked back at her.
“Come here, little girl,” he said.
Her heart was beating with furious anger, but there was something in his tone which subdued her. She went slowly to him, and he put his arm round her waist.
“Your eyes are like—very like—one whom I loved best on earth.”
“You mean my father,” said the girl.
“Your father. He left you to me to care for, and to love and to train—to train for a high position eventually.”
“He left me to mothery; you are quite mistaken there. Mothery has trained me; father left me to her. She often and often and often told me so.”
“That is true, dear. While your mother lived she had the prior claim over you, but now you belong to me.”
“Yes,” said Evelyn. She felt fascinated. She snuggled comfortably inside her uncle’s arm; her strange brown eyes were fixed on his face.