"You will be ready this afternoon," and he leaves the room.
Has he defrauded his brother? He could have held out a hope to the dying man and temporized. As his ward, Eugene might have come to admire her, or been tempted by the fortune. He hates himself that he can put her in any scale with mere money, and yet, does she not care for Eugene? What has the varying moods of the last six weeks meant, if not that? What the little interchange of glances last night? Curiously enough, Mr. Murray is quite taken with Eugene. Perhaps the elder brother does not do full justice to the fascinations of the younger. Has he been too tried and vexed and suspected, until his whole nature is warped and soured? Perhaps he is unfit for civilization, for domestic life in the realms of culture and fashion, and he wishes with much bitterness of spirit that he was back in his congenial wilds and deserts.
Violet is waiting for him, attired faultlessly. She looks pale and troubled, he can see that, and the sweet, frank expression with which she has always challenged his glance is no longer there. It is not altogether suspicion, but she really does evade his glance. She has the miserable secret of a third person, that, if known, might work incalculable harm, and she must keep it sacred. Beside, she is training herself to believe that Eugene will recover from his ill-fated passion and truly love Pauline Murray.
"Are you ready?" Grandon briefly asks, and hands her to the carriage. The drive is quite silent. They find all the parties engaged at Mr. Sherburne's, and proceed at once to business. On behalf of Messrs. Haviland and Murray the offer is made for all right and title possessed by Violet St. Vincent Grandon, and by Floyd Grandon, her husband, in all interests, inventions, etc., with much legal verbiage that alike confuses and interests Violet. But the sum offered seems enormous to her! She gazes blankly from one to another, as she hears again that all income thereof is to be hers, that no one can touch the principal until she is twenty-five, that it is settled solely upon her and her children forever.
"Oh!" she exclaims, with a vague glance at her husband, but his face is absolutely impassible.
Mr. Sherburne takes her into his private office and questions her after the usual formula as to whether force or persuasion or bribes have been used, and whether she does all this of her free consent, and smiles a little at her utter innocence. It is well she and her fortune are in the hands of a man of such perfect integrity as Floyd Grandon. Then they both sign all necessary papers, and the morning's work is completed. Violet goes home, a rich woman beyond any doubt or question, but a very miserable one. She would like to give at least half the money to Eugene, but she does not dare make the least proposal. She feels afraid of Floyd Grandon's steady, searching eyes.
In the afternoon she and Pauline are left together, but the lawyers have a rather stormier session than in the morning. Mrs. Grandon has a vague suspicion that Eugene will come out of this much worsted. He will spend his money and there will be nothing left. The young man is in a curious mood. He is well aware that he never can or will confine himself to business routine, that he is the product of the nineteenth-century civilization, termed a gentleman, rather useless, it may be, but decidedly ornamental.
The showing of the last nine months has been profitable beyond expectation. It is true there has been no income used for family expenses, and the legacies can be paid. Mrs. Grandon finally decides to dispose of her claim, and everything is adjusted for the law's inspection, approval, and ultimate signature. Floyd Grandon has redeemed his trust, has obeyed his dead father's wishes, and circumstances have proved that the dying man did not over-estimate the worth of what he was leaving. But it has been a severe and distasteful duty, and only the closest attention, the best judgment, and most wary perseverance, have saved the family from ruin. He gives his advisers full credit for their help and sympathy; but it has been a great strain, and he is immensely relieved. The dissolution of the old firm and the arrangement of the new one are matters for time, but happily he will be out of that. Wilmarth and Eugene take the first, and the others are quite capable of managing the last. He has a secret pity for Wilmarth, and yet he knows he has been Eugene's worst enemy, that he would not have scrupled at any ruin to attain his end. That he is Marcia's husband he must always regret, and they have not yet reached the end of dissensions.
Eugene drives slowly homeward, ruminating many matters. He has his college education and various accomplishments, and in the course of a month or so will have some money. He has no more taste for a profession than for business; and though various phases of speculation look tempting, he is well aware that he has not the brains to compete with the trained athletes in this department. He can marry Pauline Murray, and he will, no doubt, end by marrying some rich woman. He looks covetously at Violet's fortune and calls himself hard names, but that is plainly out of his reach. He could love Violet so dearly, with such passion and fervor, but it is too late, and he sighs. She would like him to marry Miss Murray; he will please her and Polly, who is undeniably charming, and do extremely well for himself. Why not, then? He cannot hang here on Floyd forever.
Polly is wandering through the grounds in the late summer afternoon, her blue-lined parasol making an azure sky over her golden head, her white dress draping her slender figure in a strikingly statuesque way. She is the kind of girl to madden men and win admiration on the right hand and on the left, and he does like the women on whom the world sets a signet of approval. No sweet domestic drudge for him, and if Violet has a fault, it is this tendency. When a man begins to discover flaws in his ideal the enchantment is weakening.