"That is different. Hermione was his grandchild. She is merely my second cousin, with no particular claims upon me. Except that I have promised to act the part of a brother to her, so far as she will permit."
"And you do not really know that Mr. Dalrymple ever intended to do more for Hermione?"
The question was very direct, but it had no answer. Harvey moved away to the table, and turned the lamp a little lower.
"My dear, if you have nothing more to say, I should be glad to get my letters done."
"Am I keeping you too long? Oh, I am sorry. I'll go at once."
She kept her word, losing sight of his non-response, and her last glimpse was of her husband sitting down to the escritoire once more.
But he did not remain there, and the letters which he had pleaded were not written. When the door closed behind her, he pushed pen and paper aside, and went to an armchair. The subject they had been discussing insisted upon attention. He could not give his mind to letters.
This "fretting ghost" of Hermione's claims, laid to sleep during many weeks, sprang up in new strength; and the brief letter of the dead man to his lawyer, read only once by Harvey, but never to be forgotten, confronted him anew.
"I have resolved to settle the sum of twenty thousand pounds upon my grandchild, Hermione, at once!"
Yes, that was it. Twenty thousand pounds! Of which Hermione possessed not one penny.