"After all, she is no
longer a child; she is twenty now, Mr. Bold, and has a will of her
own, and great self reliance. We had one letter from her, to say
that she had arrived safely; that was three months ago: I suppose
there has not been time to receive another."
"There has been time, certainly," I replied, with some misgivings.
"Vessels leave Port Royal every week. But her estate is situate a
long way from the port, and maybe it is not convenient to send
letters often."
"'Tis the absence of letters that makes the squire so uneasy. But
for his being unwilling to leave me, I am sure he would have sailed
to Jamaica himself to make sure that all is well. He dotes on Lucy.
'Tis a thousand pities that Roger's military duties will not permit
of his going out. Do you think that Jamaica is a healthy place to
live in, Mr. Bold?"
We were still talking when Mr. Allardyce returned. He was heartily
glad to see me, and at once poured out his tale of trouble. The
Court of Chancery, it appeared, had made Miss Lucy a ward, but
instead of appointing Mr. Allardyce to be her guardian, it had
given that office to Sir Richard Cludde, her paternal uncle. Mr.
Allardyce spoke of the judge with the most bitter obloquy; he was a
cross-grained, dried-up old mummy, said the squire, without a drop
of good red blood in his veins.
"He was prejudiced against us from the beginning, and when our
counsel said that Lucy herself entreated to be placed formally
under my guardianship the old wretch refused to listen, and said
that girls were better seen and not heard.
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