"Ed," said Edmund to Edward, "let us lay our heads together!"
"Ready Ed!" said Edward to Edmund.
Thereupon they began comparing memories and recollections,--to find,
however, that they had by no means data enough. One thing was clear to
me--that nothing would be too bad for them to believe of her.
"She would pick out the eye of a corpse if she thought a sovereign lay
behind it!" said uncle Edmund.
"To have the turning over of his rents,--" said uncle Edward, and checked
himself.
"Yes--it would be just one of her devil-tricks!" agreed uncle Edmund.
"I beg your pardon, John," said uncle Edward, as if it were he that had
used the phrase, and uncle Edmund nodded to John, as if he had himself
made the apology.
John said nothing. His eyes looked wild with hope. He felt like one who,
having been taught that he is a child of the devil, begins to know that
God is his father--the one discovery worth making by son of man.
Then, at my request, they went on with their story, which I had
interrupted.
When it was at length all poured out, and the last drops shaken from the
memory of each, there fell a long silence, which my own uncle broke.
"When shall we start, Ed?" he said.
"To-morrow, Ed."
"This business of John's must come first, Ed!"
"It shall, Ed!"
"You know where you were born, John?"
"On my father's estate of Rubworth in Gloucestershire, I _believe_"
answered John.
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