I covered my fallen antagonist with added chagrin by scooping up with a sideway stroke of the foot some dust out of the road on top of him, and, walking to the horse, I clambered up behind again. Then, digging my heels into the nag's side, we started on a gallop up the hill and entered the woods that lined the crest.
I had been so angry that I dare say I had shed tears even at the moment of my victory (what varieties of weeping there are, to be sure), and I had such a lump in my throat that I waited for my uncle to begin any conversation he might wish, but he did not speak until after we had progressed some distance in among the trees. Then he pulled the horse up with a jerk (that caused me almost to break my nose on the back of his head), and he ordered me to dismount. I did so. Monsieur de Brienne leaned from the saddle and turned me around by the shoulder, much as I have seen a planter look at a negro before purchasing.
"Very like indeed," he muttered. "A true De Brienne."
Then he leaned further over and told me to embrace him. I complied, and he kissed me on each cheek and between the eyes. This quite embarrassed me, and I dropped my glance to the ground and shuffled uneasily; but the old man had begun to talk, and I dare say it was an hour that we stood there, for I had to tell him, of course, of my mother's death and of the burning of Marshwood. When I came to relate of the loss of the strong-box and its contents, the old gentleman grew quite pale, then he drew a long breath, and ripped out into a frightful burst of temper. For some reason I could not help but feel that it was directed against me, and I waited until he had calmed before I went on. Then I remembered the letter which had given me the only clew that had led to this meeting, and I thrust my hand into my coat pocket. It was not there? Fruitlessly I searched with a growing fear upon me, and I saw that my uncle's little black eyes were following my every movement; I could see that there was a certain suspicion in his look, but the letter was not forth-coming, and was not to be found in my bundle, although I undid it from the strap of the saddle-bag where I had tied it, and spread its few contents on the road-side.
"Where is the miniature that you spoke of finding?" inquired Monsieur de Brienne, in a cold harsh voice.
I told him what I imagined had become of it.
"Ah, bah!" he cried at this, and raised his hand as if he would have struck me. Had he done so I believe I should have pulled him from the saddle. He was scarcely larger than myself, and I was growing angry at his unnecessary and unjust words.
"What have you done?" he cried, restraining himself. "You have lost all the proofs—all the papers, you fool! Now we can prove nothing. A curse on such stupidity! What use are you without them? Why did you come?"
I had gathered up my possessions, and was tying together the corners of the handkerchief, making up my mind to burden him no longer with my presence, and to return whence I had started (for I still had a number of the gold pieces sewed in the lining of my cap, where Mr. Edgerton's maiden sister had placed them), but suddenly M. de Brienne spoke in rather an eager tone, and asked me to come closer to him. I did so, wondering. He leaned forward and caught one of the buttons of my coat between his thumb and forefinger and looked at it closely. Then he heaved a sigh.
"All there is left," he said. "Ah, my child, my child, you do not know what you have lost. Pardon my rough speech of a moment since, but what you told, and what has happened, appeared to turn into ashes what little hope I had left in life."