"It seems so strange, so extraordinary," she broke out at length, in a voice almost resentful. "I could not have thought it. He did love me; but to leave me dependent on Harvey and Julia—"
"He only knew of Harvey's marriage at the last."
"Yes—but Harvey alone—how could he leave me so?"
Tears of wounded feeling could no longer be kept back, strive as Hermione might. She stood up and went to the bookcase, remaining there with her back turned. Mr. Fitzalan would speak no hasty words. He feared to make mischief between the cousins.
"And there was nothing for me, nothing at all?" she repeated, coming back to her seat. "He forgot no one else—only me!"
"He did not forget. Don't let yourself wrong him, even in thought. He had spoken to Mr. Selwyn sometimes of his intention to provide for you more fully, and the day before his death he wrote summoning Mr. Selwyn from London. But—too late."
"He ought not to have put off. It was wrong," Hermione said in distinct accents. Then, with a change of tone, "Does Harvey know this?"
"Yes. He offers you a home; and I think that at present your duty is to accept his offer."
Hermione's face quivered. "I don't know how to bear it all," she said. "Anything else would be easier."
"Anything, except what is given you to bear?"