We
have never liked one another. But I have something on my conscience,
and I may not have another opportunity of speaking to you. I don't
suppose you have heard that very shortly I intend to enter a nunnery
at Roehampton."
"And your mother?" asked Maggie.
"Mother will go into a Home," answered Miss Warlock.
There was a strange little sound from the sofa like a rat nibbling
behind the wainscot.
"I must tell you," said Miss Warlock, speaking apparently with some
difficulty, "that I have done you a wrong. Shortly after my father's
death my brother wrote to you from Paris."
"Wrote to me?" repeated Maggie.
"Yes--wrote to you through me. I destroyed the letters. He wrote
then five times in rather swift succession. I destroyed all the
letters."
Maggie said nothing.
"I destroyed the letters," continued Amy Warlock, "because I did not
wish you and my brother to come together. I did not wish you to,
simply out of hatred for you both. I thought that my brother killed
my father--whom--whom--I loved. I knew that the one human being whom
Martin had ever loved beside his father was yourself.
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