‘What has brought you over so early, uncle?’ she demanded. ‘I hope George has not been talking nonsense to you about me. He has been here before on the same errand, and I had to show him the door.’
‘George has your interest at heart! returned the baronet, fuming; ‘and if you doubt his disinterestedness, perhaps you will do me the justice to believe that I am your true friend, as well as your relation. Now my brother is gone, I am your nearest protector. It is enough to make your father rise in his grave to hear what I have heard.’
‘What have you heard?’ cried Alma, turning pale with indignation. ‘Don’t go too far, uncle, or I shall quarrel with you as well as George; and I should be sorry for that.’
‘Will you give me an explanation of your conduct—yes or no?—or do you refuse my right to question you? Remember, Alma, the honour of our family—your father’s honour—is in question.’
‘How absurd you are!’ cried Alma, with a forced laugh. ‘But there, I will try to keep my temper. What is it that you want to know?’
And she sat down quietly, with folded hands, as if waiting to be interrogated.
‘Is it the fact, as I am informed, that you and Mr. Bradley were seen travelling alone together, some weeks ago, in Normandy?’
Alma hesitated before speaking; then, smiling to herself, she said,
‘Suppose it is true, uncle—what then?’
The baronet’s face went red as crimson, and he paced furiously up and down the room.