CHAPTER VII
MORE CONFIDENCES THAN ONE
‘ I know very little of that gentleman, sir,’ said Neville to the Minor Canon as they turned back.
‘ You know very little of your guardian?’ the Minor Canon repeated.
‘ Almost nothing!’
‘ How came he—’
‘ To be my guardian? I’ll tell you, sir. I suppose you know that we come (my sister and I) from Ceylon?’
‘ Indeed, no.’
‘ I wonder at that. We lived with a stepfather there. Our mother died there, when we were little children. We have had a wretched existence. She made him our guardian, and he was a miserly wretch who grudged us food to eat, and clothes to wear. At his death, he passed us over to this man; for no better reason that I know of, than his being a friend or connexion of his, whose name was always in print and c
