The Entail; or, The Lairds of Grippy
In saying this, he turned round, and was moving to go away, when the lady, throwing back her shawl, magnificently raised her hand, and took hold of him by the arm--  'Stop, Mr. Walkinshaw, this is a place of truth--There is no deceit in death and the grave--Life and the living may impose upon us; but here, where we stand, among the sincere--the dead--I tell you, and your heart, sir, knows that what I tell you is true, there is no affection--no love for your nephew--nor respect for his mother, in the undivulged motives of that seeming kindness with which you are, shall I say plainly, seeking their ruin?'