“And have you thought what it will mean to them to leave this place? Have you realized that your father has no business interests nor can he find any at his age? Do you remember that your mother has no funds outside the estate she inherited? Do you want to plunge them into penury, into pauperism, in their declining years?”
“Yes—if honesty requires it——” but the sweet voice trembled at the thought.
“Honesty is a good thing—a fine policy—but you are a devoted daughter, and I remind you that to tell this thing I have told you, means disaster—ruin for you and your parents. Young Allen can’t support them—they are unaccustomed to deprivation—and,” he lowered his voice, “this heir I speak of has no knowledge of the truth. He misses nothing, since he hopes for nothing.”
Maida looked at him helplessly.
“I must think,” she said, brokenly. “Oh, you are cruel, to put this responsibility on me.”
“You know why I do it. I am not disinterested.”
CHAPTER IV
THE BIG SYCAMORE TREE
At the south door the Appleby car stood waiting.
Genevieve was saying good-bye to Maida, with the affection of an old friend.
“We’re coming back, you know,” she reminded, “in two or three days, and please say you’ll be glad to see me!”