Philip Debenham had been a man of high culture and refined scholarly tastes. His letters had been models of the art of diction. Anything clumsy in construction, or faulty in expression, had certainly never issued from his pen; and anyone who had ever known him in his lifetime, or had even known what manner of man he was, must be convinced that whether or not that letter was written by himself, its contents had never been composed by him. The prolonged silence occasioned Belassis a feeling of discomfort he hardly understood. He broke it himself, by turning to Maud with a smile meant to be insinuating and paternal. ‘There, my dear girl, you hear now what was the real wish of your dear father. May I hope that his wishes will be carried out by you, and that I shall soon have the happiness of welcoming you as a daughter?’ Maud’s eyes glowed with a strange light. Dim remembrances of her dead father had risen up within her, and she felt a burning indignation against anyone who could so have abused his confidence and exercised so great a power over him. She rose and spoke with a firmness which showed that she was actuated by no mere girlish caprice. ‘My decision was made long ago, Uncle Belassis; but even had it not been, what I have now heard would have settled the matter. My father never wrote that letter, except at your dictation. He only made that will under your coercion. I know it as well as possible, in spite of anything you may choose to say. Uncle Belassis, I will never marry your son; and I will never call you uncle again; you have been a false friend, a cruel guardian, and a dishonest man. I have made my decision, and you hear it now. I will lose the money. I will not marry any son of yours. Philip will take care of me. He will be my guardian as well as my brother now.’ She turned to him with a proud and loving look; and he stood up beside her, and drew her hand within his arm. It was a quiet but significant gesture, and Maud looked up in his face with a smile. Then she turned to Lewis, and held out her other hand. ‘Lewis,’ she said, ‘you know I like you. I am sorry I cannot like you better. It is not your fault that you are a Belassis—you are not a bit like one; and I am very sorry for you. I am glad you will be rich, anyway, and we will always be friends.’ But the conclave was not over yet. Miss Marjory’s tongue could never be silent in moments of excitement, and now that she had held her peace as long as it was possible to do so, she burst out again. ‘It’s the most infamous conspiracy I ever heard of—as clear a case of coercion as ever was brought into a court of law. Will! letter! Stuff and nonsense! I believe the whole thing is a great forgery!’ Belassis looked furious; but he dared not fly out at Miss Marjory. ‘Anybody is welcome to examine them; they are absolutely genuine—will and letter both. Who knows Philip Debenham’s handwriting and signature? I appeal to them.’