'And Uncle Silas was'--I paused in a sort of fear. 'He was suspected by some people of having killed him'--she completed the sentence. There was another long pause here, during which the storm outside bellowed and hooted like an angry mob roaring at the windows for a victim. An intolerable and sickening sensation overpowered me. 'But _you_ did not suspect him, Cousin Knollys?' I said, trembling very much. 'No,' she answered very sharply. 'I told you so before. Of course I did not.' There was another silence. 'I wish, Cousin Monica,' I said, drawing close to her, 'you had not said _that_ about Uncle Silas being like a wizard, and sending his spirits on the wind to listen. But I'm very glad you never suspected him.' I insinuated my cold hand into hers, and looked into her face I know not with what expression. She looked down into mine with a hard, haughty stare, I thought. 'Of _course_ I never suspected him; and _never_ ask me _that_ question again, Maud Ruthyn.' Was it family pride, or what was it, that gleamed so fiercely from her eyes as she said this? I was frightened--I was wounded--I burst into tears. 'What is my darling crying for? I did not mean to be cross. _Was_ I cross?' said this momentary phantom of a grim Lady Knollys, in an instant translated again into kind, pleasant Cousin Monica, with her arms about my neck. 'No, no, indeed--only I thought I had vexed you; and, I believe, thinking of Uncle Silas makes me nervous, and I can't help thinking of him nearly always.' 'Nor can I, although we might both easily find something better to think of. Suppose we try?' said Lady Knollys. 'But, first, I must know a little more about that Mr. Charke, and what circumstances enabled Uncle Silas's enemies to found on his death that wicked slander, which has done no one any good, and caused some persons so much misery. There is Uncle Silas, I may say, ruined by it; and we all know how it darkened the life of my dear father.' 'People will talk, my dear. Your uncle Silas had injured himself before that in the opinion of the people of his county. He was a black sheep, in fact. Very bad stories were told and believed of him. His marriage certainly was a disadvantage, you know, and the miserable scenes that went on in his disreputable house--all that predisposed people to believe ill of him.' 'How long is it since it happened?' 'Oh, a long time; I think before you were born,' answered she. 'And the injustice still lives--they have not forgotten it yet?' said I, for such a period appeared to me long enough to have consigned anything in its nature perishable to oblivion. Lady Knollys smiled. 'Tell me, like a darling cousin, the whole story as well as you can recollect it. Who was Mr. Charke?'