He took the first step toward the stairs, and met the restraining hand of McClintock. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "a letter, beginning 'dearest Aliva,'—that's your mother's name, Thames. She cried out his name in ecstasy. He hated to destroy it; but that was the obligation imposed; and he was an honourable man. After all, she found herself reflecting, behind her aunt’s complacent visage there was a past as lurid as any one’s—not, of course, her aunt’s own personal past, which was apparently just that curate and almost incredibly jejune, but an ancestral past with all sorts of scandalous things in it: fire and slaughterings, exogamy, marriage by capture, corroborees, cannibalism! Ancestresses with perhaps dim anticipatory likenesses to her aunt, their hair less neatly done, no doubt, their manners and gestures as yet undisciplined, but still ancestresses in the direct line, must have danced through a brief and stirring life in the woady buff. He was a little embarrassed. 'Avow nothing, believe nothing, give nothing for nothing,' is my own motto. He now understood her interest in Taber, as he called himself: habit, a twice-told tale. Haven’t I shown you over and over again that I mean you no harm? What do I have to do?’ ‘You can go away and leave me to my affairs,’ she threw at him. There are way-stations—even terminals. “Leave them!” He yelled. Blest with a fond husband, surrounded by every comfort, you have never been assailed by the horrible temptations to which misery has exposed me.
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