“Churton expects to have all this,” I said in a low voice to my husband, when he went away to call Maimie.
“Evidently,” Robert answered. “He probably has good grounds for his expectation.”
Then Maimie entered quietly, followed by her stepfather. She looked very pale, and her eyes were red with tear-shedding. “Aunt Briscoe was so good to me,” she said softly, as if in excuse for herself; and she sat holding my hand, with her fair head down on my shoulder. “Just like mother and daughter!” Churton said, in a sneering manner.
However, he sent for tea, and talked persistently, allowing us no chance of quiet conversation with Maimie. Aunt Briscoe had long been poorly and broken, he said; but the final stroke of paralysis had come suddenly,—unexpectedly, in fact. The doctor had been summoned, but nothing could be done. She had never been conscious again, and had sunk in the early morning. He would have telegraphed the night before, had it not been so late, knowing the interest we all felt in the old lady.
Then he went on to name the day of the funeral. He asked Robert and Jack to be present, and me too, if I liked. “Not that it matters much,” he said. “But no doubt there will be small remembrances to some of us, whatever she may have done with the bulk of her possessions. She was quite free, as we all know. The poor old body wasn’t over-liberal with her gifts while she was alive; but most people are willing to be generous in their wills. Well, we shall see, after the funeral. No use to go into the question.”
I disliked extremely the manner in which he spoke; and I saw Maimie’s eyes fixed on him gravely.
Churton evidently did not intend that we should see Maimie alone that afternoon. I longed for at least five minutes’ chat in private; but I could not see how to bring it about, and Maimie made no effort. She was only sad and submissive. Yet now and then I noticed a satisfied expression in her face—an expression as of one who had set herself to do something, and had done it.
Robert asked Churton as to his future plans; and Churton said carelessly—
“Really, I don’t know yet. Either settle down in England, or go back to America. It isn’t easy to come to a decision; but I shall have to decide soon. Maimie doesn’t seem to care for the thought of America. I believe there’s some young fellow in England she has a hankering after. But I tell her it’s no earthly use, unless he has money. She ought to do well for herself, with that face and air. I’m not going to have her throw herself away on some penniless city clerk.”
A hit at my husband this, and I knew it. But Robert heard quietly; and Maimie’s downcast face did not even blush.