"The House of Defresnier are my
fellow townsmen--much respected, much esteemed--but the House of
Defresnier must not silently destroy a man's character. You can rebut
assertion. But how can you rebut silence?"
"Your sense of justice, my dear patron," answered Obenreizer, "states in
a word the cruelty of the case. Does it stop there? No. For, what
follows upon that?"
"True, my poor boy," said the notary, with a comforting nod or two; "your
ward rebels upon that."
"Rebels is too soft a word," retorted Obenreizer. "My ward revolts from
me with horror. My ward defies me. My ward withdraws herself from my
authority, and takes shelter (Madame Dor with her) in the house of that
English lawyer, Mr. Bintrey, who replies to your summons to her to submit
herself to my authority, that she will not do so."
"--And who afterwards writes," said the notary, moving his large snuff-
box to look among the papers underneath it for the letter, "that he is
coming to confer with me."
"Indeed?" replied Obenreizer, rather checked. "Well, sir. Have I no
legal rights?"
"Assuredly, my poor boy," returned the notary. "All but felons have
their legal rights."
"And who calls me felon?" said Obenreizer, fiercely.
"No one. Be calm under your wrongs. If the House of Defresnier would
call you felon, indeed, we should know how to deal with them."
While saying these words, he had handed Bintrey's very short letter to
Obenreizer, who now read it and gave it back.
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