"No; I was anxious to sever all possible connection in the future with such false friends."
"Then," said Margaret, with a wise look, "how could he (Lucy's he, I mean) come to see her, when you as good as hid her from him? There is hope--there is hope--I see hope already!" She kissed him blithely. "Another thing--about myself this time. Mr. Weston's son is named Gerald! Does not that strike you as strange?"
"It was a mark of affectionate remembrance of an old friend, my dear."
"I know that; but strange in another way. Have you forgotten the packet which my darling Philip confided to your care? The property of Gerald, and to be opened only by him. What if your Mr. Weston's Gerald should be Philip's Gerald? It isn't so very unlikely. Mr. Weston's house is not very far from the Silver Flagon, and my Philip was the equal of any man. This Gerald must be nearly Philip's age--a little younger perhaps. And my poor darling went to college. Do you not see?"
She spoke very excitedly, and Mr. Hart gazed at her in admiration.
"There is reason in what you say, Margaret. These broken links may form a chain."
"So now all is settled," she said, "and I am to have my own way in everything."
"Yes, my dear," he replied; "you are more fit to take the helm than I. I am breaking down fast--I feel it."
"Lucy, Lucy," cried Margaret, going to the door. "Here is our father threatening to become melancholy. Come and help me to cheer him up. Ah! I know what we'll do. First we'll have a kiss all round, and then I'll ask Mr. Nathan to take us out for a drive. He'll do it." She held up her little finger. "I can twist him round this, my dear."