plainer than that, so far from Pollie’s being the lucky heritor of a handsome fortune, she was only the tool of her wicked old uncle; and that, consciously or unconsciously, as such she was to hide from the world some one or other of his nefarious schemes which had to be kept hidden even after he was in his grave.
As such thoughts kept chasing each other through my brain. I could keep them to myself no longer.
“Pollie, do you know what I should do if I were you?”
“Break open the door with a chair, or the leg of the bedstead, my dear?”
“I should leave the house this moment.”
“Would you indeed? And then?”
“I should go straight to Mr. Paine, and I should renounce the fortune which your wicked old uncle has pretended to leave you, and refuse to fall into the trap which he had laid.”
“Emily! Are you insane?”
“No, I’m not insane, and it’s because I’m not that I’m advising you. I feel sure that your Uncle Benjamin never meant to do you any good when he made that will of his.”
“So far I’m with you. But it’s just possible that the niece may prove a match for the uncle; she means to try. This is my house, at present. I’m mistress here, and I mean to play the mistress; not act as if I were afraid to raise my voice above a whisper. So don’t you forget it, or we shall quarrel; and, even if things are as bad as you seem to think, I don’t see how you’ll be better off for that. Light a match, and keep on lighting one till I tell you to stop.”
She ordered, me as if I were a servant: I obeyed because I could not see my way to refuse. In the match-light she marched to the mantelpiece.
“Here’s three boxes of matches for you; I’ll take care of the rest. The matches are in them, luckily.
