"Sit down, Miss Liddell. I am deeply grieved to see you so depressed. I
have ventured to call because I have a pin's point of hope for you,
which I trust will excuse me for presenting myself, as I know you would
rather not see me."
"To-day I am glad to see you. I should always be glad to see you
but--but for my own conscience. Do not misunderstand me." With a sudden
impulse she stretched out her fair soft hand to him. He took and held
it, wondering to find that although so cold when first he touched it, it
grew quickly warm in his grasp.
"Thank you," he said, gently, and still held her hand; "you give me
infinite pleasure. Now"--releasing her--"for my excuse. Among my poor
father's papers were a few letters of very old date from John Liddell,
in which was occasional mention of his boy. It struck me these might be
a _modus operandi_, and enable me approach a difficult subject. I
contrived to meet your cousin at Mr. Newton's, and he permitted me to
call. I gave him the letters, and we became--not friends--but friendly
at least." Here his face brightened. "We began to talk of you, and I saw
that he was bitter and vindictive against you to an extraordinary
degree. He grew communicative, and I was able to represent to him the
cruelty and unreasonableness of his conduct.
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