"Actually telling Mittie that you had taken possession of the money which ought to belong to Hermione!" This indignant utterance of Julia's recurred next. But, of course, it was absurd. No "ought" existed, so Harvey told himself, and it was no case of "taking possession." What he held was his own, lawfully his own. While Mr. Dalrymple lived, Mr. Dalrymple had the right to will what he chose to Hermione, apart from the entailed land. Now Harvey had the right to keep or give away, as he chose.
Yet still—
"It is a question of actual right and wrong," Julia had said.
Stuff and nonsense! It was a question of law. Women knew nothing about business. Absurd of Julia to meddle in such matters. Besides, even if it were a question of right and wrong, how could that alter the case?
"You do not know that Mr. Dalrymple ever intended to do more for Hermione?" Julia's voice seemed to ask anew.
Yes, of course he did know, but he was not going to inform Julia. Mr. Dalrymple's wishes did not restrain him. He was entirely free. He was most willing to give a home to Hermione, and some day the question of a marriage portion might come up. He fully meant to act an elder brother's part, consistently with the extent of his means and the requirements of the estate. But twenty thousand pounds! The idea was simply ridiculous.
"My poor old uncle must have been in his dotage," Harvey muttered, rousing himself from a dream, which had lasted much longer than he supposed.
"Did you speak?" The door was opening, and Julia came in. "It is post-time."
"Already?"
"Yes; I told Slade I would ask if you had any more letters ready."