Florence sighed drearily. She had heard this predicted so often! But Mr. Heriton did not notice it, and went on talking in the same animated manner.
“Mason was delighted to see me. He entered warmly into my affairs, and has put me in the way of a good thing or two already. You see, my dear, I have been unfortunate hitherto in having to deal with artful persons who took no real interest in me. Now, Mason is quite a different man, and will not let me run any risks. Do you comprehend my meaning?”
“Not quite, papa; but I hope he is all you think him. Does he thoroughly understand”—and now Florence spoke hesitatingly—“that—that we have no ready money left to—to speculate with?”
Mr. Heriton frowned.
“How oddly you express yourself! Of course, I frankly told him that all my available capital is locked up in various investments. It is very unfortunate that it should be so, for I cannot buy some shares he has recommended me until I can put my hand on a few hundreds.”
Florence thought in her heart that it was quite as well as it was; but she did not venture to say so, and her father rose and paced the room for some few minutes. When he came back to his seat he said irritably:
“How it wounds me to see you so careless of our interests! Really, Florence, it is cruelly disheartening to find you so utterly indifferent.”
“But indeed, papa,” she said affectionately, “I have been listening to all you have said, and wishing it were in my power to give you back the priory.”
He drew his chair closer to hers.
“And it is in your power to assist me greatly, Florence. You can let me have the money I require. That legacy my sister Margaret’s husband left you will be ample, and I will return it ere long.”