And then again, how could she explain to her father Mrs.
Winterfield's mistake about her own position without seeming to accuse her father of having robbed her?
But nevertheless she must say something, as Mr.Amedroz continued to apply that epithet of heartless to Mrs.Winterfield, going on with it in a low droning tone, that was more injurious to Clara's ears than the first full energy of his anger.

"Heartless,--quite heartless;--shockingly heartless,--shockingly heartless!" "The truth is, papa," Clara said at last, "that when my aunt told me about her will, she did not know but what I had some adequate provision from my own family." "Oh, Clara!" "That is the truth, papa;--for she explained the whole thing to me.
I could not tell her that she was mistaken, and thus ask for her money." "But she knew everything about that poor wretched boy." And now the father dropped back into his chair, and buried his face in his hands.
When he did this Clara again knelt at his feet.

She felt that she had been cruel, and that she had defended her aunt at the cost of her own father.

She had, as it were, thrown in his teeth his own imprudence, and twitted him with the injuries which he had done to her.

"Papa," she said, "dear papa, do not think about it at all.