"I OUGHT to have written, of course," Harvey went on. "But you know how one puts off. It was a rather sudden affair, just at last. Perhaps too I had a fancy that I would prefer to come and tell you in person."
Still silence.
"Julia is an orphan. She has only one sister—a widow, with a little child. I have left them together in Paris; but, of course—"
Continued silence.
"I am afraid it must seem unkind not to have communicated with you beforehand, only—"
Another break. Harvey was at a loss how to carry on his remarks in the face of this irresponsiveness. Though he would not say a word that was not true, he did not wish to confess that he had purposely abstained from appealing to Mr. Dalrymple until he should have put it out of Mr. Dalrymple's power to interfere. Purposely, after a fashion. Harvey was more apt to drift in the wake of his own desires than to follow out a certain line of action determined on by himself. Also, he undoubtedly was a procrastinator in the letter-writing line. But beneath the usual putting-off in this case there had been a more than usual unwillingness to yield to the temptation.
"Mrs. Trevor is the sister—Francesca Trevor. Badly off I am sorry to say. That was one reason why I thought—why delay seemed unadvisable. Julia was dependent on Mrs. Trevor, and, of course, a young widow—"
Harvey came to another stop. It was evident that Mr. Dalrymple had ceased to listen. He leant back in his chair listlessly, a pallid and even shrunken look replacing the bronzed hue of health. None but himself could know how sharply fell this blow, dispelling a long-cherished dream.
For years Gilbert Dalrymple had dwelt upon the dream, until it had grown into an almost certainty for the future. He had spoken of it to his friends, till there were few in Westford, besides Hermione, quite ignorant of his desire. He had, of course, been aware of the possibility that either Hermione or Harvey might fail to care for the other, but he had not realised it. He had scarcely allowed it, and all difficulties had gone down in imagination before his intense longing that Hermione Rivers, the darling of his old age, should possess, through marriage, the estate from which she was cut off by entail.
And now this hope was utterly at an end!