I
shall give you no further warning. You know where my son is: if he is not
in my house within two days, I shall have you arrested. _I have made up
my mind._
"Lucretia Cairnedge.
"Rising-Manor, July 15, 18--."
"Whoever be the father, she's the mother of lies!" I exclaimed.--"My
uncle--the best and gentlest of men, a murderer!"
I laughed aloud in my indignation and wrath.
But, though the woman was a liar, she must have something to say with a
show of truth! How else would she dare intimidation with such a man? How
else could her threat have so wrought upon my uncle? What did she know,
or imagine she knew? What could be the something on which she founded her
lie?--That my uncle was going to tell me, nor did I dread hearing his
story. No revelation would lower him in my eyes! Of that I was confident.
But I little thought how long it would be before it came, or what a
terrible tale it would prove.
I ran down the stair with the vile paper in my hand.
"The wicked woman!" I cried. "If she _be_ John's mother, I don't care:
she's a devil and a liar!"
"Hush, hush, little one!" said my uncle, with a smile in which the
sadness seemed to intensify the sweetness; "you do not _know_ anything
against her! You do not _know_ she is a liar!"
"There are things, uncle, one knows without knowing!"
"What if I said she told no lie?"
"I should say she was a liar although she told no lie.
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