I hastened to answer—
“Three of them died long ago; two others made good marriages, but they have children of their own; and one, Aunt Sophia, is maintained by the rest of the family, I contributing in proportion to my means.”
“Aunt Sophia,” repeated the General; “had the d’Hermaeles the foresight to make Sophia Roselaer godmother to one of their children?”
“It is possible,” I answered, “but I don’t know for certain; my mother seldom talked to me about her relations.”
“At any rate it appears to me she has been made heir to the property of that mischief-loving woman, Miss Roselaer,” continued the General; “and probably you, Leopold, were not informed of the death, nor invited to the funeral any more than ourselves? As far as I am concerned I expected such treatment; yet I cannot understand that she should allow her hatred to deprive the only granddaughter of her eldest sister of the property.”
I now felt myself on dangerous ground; but Francis came to my rescue by saying, in a tone of pleasantry—
“Neither did I ever expect anything from her; and yet, who knows, if I had liked—I have only seen her once in my life; and though as a rule people are not prepossessed in my favour at a first interview” (hereupon she gave me a malicious look), “she seems to have had no reason to complain of me;—in fact, if I had only cultivated the acquaintance, probably at this moment my name would be in her will for a good round sum.”
“What! you have seen the old gossip?” interrupted General von Zwenken, “and you have never told me of it. When and where have you met her?”
“At the beginning of this year, when I went to Utrecht on certain business about which it is not necessary to trouble cousin Leopold.”
“She never likes to hear her good deeds spoken of,” the General murmured to me.