"To do justly!" she said in a low tone.
"Yes, certainly—I hope so."
Then Mrs. Ogilvie came in, and no more could be said. Julia did not look satisfied, however. Tears were again in her eyes when Harvey bade her good-bye.
But if she was not satisfied, neither was he. He felt that his arguments had not been conclusive, and he knew that Julia was not convinced. Worse than this, he was not convinced himself. Say what he would, he could not lay the matter to sleep. Hermione's claim— Hermione's due—call it what he might, rose perpetually before him, overshadowing his peace. The talk with Julia had only weakened his own side of the question. He could not forget how things had looked to him, seen in the scathing blaze of desperate peril.
Legally, of course, it was a very simple matter. Legally he was not bound. Nobody could call him bound. All Mr. Dalrymple's property had descended to him. All the property was his. Hermione could not legally claim from him a single penny as her due.
But there was another side of the question. How might it be in the sight of God?
Harvey reached his own room tired out with the short discussion, and not at all disposed for the further exertion of a drive. Francesca half-scolded, half-coaxed him into a different mood, but the drive had to be deferred till nearly dark, and she could not cheer him up. He sat long in moody silence, going over the things Julia had said, and the things he had said in answer, till his head ached with the strain.
[CHAPTER XXX.]
FROM MISS DALTON.
"COUSIN HERMIONE, what time will mother and Uncle Harvey come home?"