Roy! Who knew anything of Roy?
'It happens to be my father's present name,' said I.
'It sounds to me like the name of one of those blackguard adventurers who creep into families to catch the fools,' pursued the squire, not hearing me with his eyes.
'The letter at least must be answered,' my aunt Dorothy said.
'It shall be answered!' the squire worked himself up to roar.

He wrote a reply, the contents of which I could guess at from my aunt's refusal to let me be present at the discussion of it.

The letter despatched was written by her, with his signature.

Her eyes glittered for a whole day.
Then came a statement of the young lady's case from Bath.
'Look at that! look at that!' cried the squire, and went on, 'Look at that!' in a muffled way.

There was a touch of dignity in his unforced anger.
My aunt winced displeasingly to my sight: 'I see nothing to astonish one.' 'Nothing to astonish one!' The squire set his mouth in imitation of her.
'You see nothing to astonish one?
Well, ma'am, when a man grows old enough to be a grandfather, I do see something astonishing in a child of nineteen--by George! it's out o' nature.