Читать книгу Charles Peace, or The Adventures of a Notorious Burglar онлайн

476 страница из 895

“Ah, it’s you, Jakyl.”

The butler bowed.

“Yes, I rang—​let me see, what was it for? Ah, I remember. You know the handwriting of your late mistress?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“For the future I desire you to look carefully over all the letters addressed to me before I see them, and, should there be any in the handwriting of your late young mistress, destroy them.”

“Destroy them?”

“Yes, sirrah; burn them—​that’s what I mean.”

“Yes, my lord,” returned the butler with another bow.

He was surprised, but was too discreet a man to let any expression of it be seen on his countenance, which was as inexpressive as that of a wax doll.

He withdrew from the apartment in the same noiseless way in which he had entered.

After this time Lord Ethalwood lived as if he had no daughter.

Mr. Jakyl was the only person who knew how many heart-broken letters came to Broxbridge Hall; he never referred again to the subject to any living creature. He knew very well the uncompromising nature of his master, and knew, moreover, that it was more than his place was worth to be outspoken on so painful a subject.