Chapter 7. 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 catching his attention.’
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