Next day, after breakfast, Christopher was silent and thoughtful awhile,
and at last said to Rosa, "I'll show you I don't look on you as a child;
I'll consult you in a delicate matter."
Rosa's eyes sparkled.
"It is about my Uncle Philip. He has been very cruel; he has wounded
me deeply; he has wounded me through my wife. I never thought he would
refuse to come to our marriage."
"And did he? You never showed me his letter."
"You were not my wife then. I kept an affront from you; but now, you
see, I keep nothing."
"Dear Christie!"
"I am so happy, I have got over that sting--almost; and the memory of
many kind acts comes back to me; and I don't know what to do. It seems
ungrateful not to visit him--it seems almost mean to call."
"I'll tell you; take me to see him directly. He won't hate us forever,
if he sees us often. We may as well begin at once. Nobody hates me
long."
Christopher was proud of his wife's courage and wisdom. He kissed
her, begged her to put on the plainest dress she could, and they went
together to call on Uncle Philip.
When they got to his house in Gloucester Place, Portman Square, Rosa's
heart began to quake, and she was right glad when the servant said "Not
at home.
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