Could
the wicked device have told already?
"May I ask, uncle," I said, and tried hard to keep my voice steady, "how
you mean to answer this vile epistle?"
He looked up with a wan smile, such as might have broke from Lazarus when
he found himself again in his body.
"I will take it to the young man," he answered.
"Please, let us go at once then, uncle! I cannot sit still."
He rose, and we went together to John's room.
He was much better--sitting up in bed, and eating the breakfast Penny had
carried him.
"I have just had a letter from your mother, Day," said my uncle.
"Indeed!" returned John dryly.
"Will you read it, and tell me what answer you would like me to return."
"Hardly like her usual writing--though there's her own strange S!"
remarked John as he looked at it.
"Does she always make an S like that?" asked my uncle, with something
peculiar in his tone, I thought.
"Always--like a snake just going to strike."
My uncle's face grew ghastly pale. He almost snatched the letter from
John's hand, looked at it, gave it back to him, and, to our dismay, left
the room.
"What can be the matter, John?" I said, my heart sinking within me.
"Go to him," said John.
I dared not. I had often seen him _like_ that before walking out into the
night; but there was something in his face now which I had not seen there
before.
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