DARRELL.—“Oh, yes! I brought it on myself. What stuff we have been talking! Tell me the news, not political, any other. But first, your report of young Haughton. Cordial thanks for all your kindness to him. You write me word that he is much improved,—most likeable; you add, that at Paris he became the rage, that in London you are sure he will be extremely popular. Be it so, if for his own sake. Are you quite sure that it is not for the expectations which I come here to disperse?”
COLONEL MORLEY.—“Much for himself, I am certain; a little, perhaps, because—whatever he thinks, and I say to the contrary—people seeing no other heir to your property—”
“I understand,” interrupted Darrell, quickly. “But he does not nurse those expectations? he will not be disappointed?”
COLONEL MORLEY.—“Verily I believe that, apart from his love for you and a delicacy of sentiment that would recoil from planting hopes of wealth in the graves of benefactors, Lionel Haughton would prefer carving his own fortunes to all the ingots hewed out of California by another’s hand and bequeathed by another’s will.”
DARRELL.—“I am heartily glad to hear and to trust you.”
COLONEL MORLEY.—“I gather from what you say that you are here with the intention to—to—”
“Marry again,” said Darrell, firmly. “Right. I am.”
“I always felt sure you would marry again. Is the lady here too?”
“What lady?”
“The lady you have chosen.”