“All right, but I shall put your whole bequest into the scheme. I don’t want to be paid for doing what will be a great pleasure.”
“Don’t be a little simpleton! You will take your own half for your individual use, and not a cent of it is to go toward the Home. There is money enough for that. And it isn’t payment. I give it to you, because I am really very fond of you. You have made sunshine in my life ever since I first found you, and I am glad to give you a small fortune. When you marry, as you will some day, you will find it very nice to be able to buy what you want for your trousseau. You can buy worth-while jewels with it, or, if you prefer, put it out at interest and have a stated income. But accept it you must, or I shall think you don’t love me at all.”
“Oh, yes, I do. Dear Lady Van, you know I do.”
“Then don’t upset my last hours by refusing what I offer.”
Patty almost laughed at the snappish tone, so incongruous in one who was making a splendid gift. But Mrs. Van Reypen was getting more and more excited. A red spot burned in either cheek, and her eyes blazed as she gesticulated from her pillows.
“And there’s another thing, Patty Fairfield, that you are to do for me. You are to marry my boy, Philip.”
“Well,” and Patty laughed lightly, “we won’t discuss that now.”
“But we will discuss it now. I want your promise. Do you suppose I got you over here just to tell you about my will? No. I want you to promise me that you will grant me this happiness before I die. Philip loves you deeply. He wants you for his wife and he has told you so. Where could you find a better man? A more honourable, a kinder, a more generous and loving heart? And he worships you. He would always be gentle and tender with you. He is of fine old stock, there is no better family tree in the country than the Van Reypens. Now, will you give me your promise?”
“Oh, Lady Van, I can’t promise offhand, like this. You must let me think it over.”
“You’ve had time enough for that. Tell me,—you care for Philip, don’t you?”