“Yes,” said young Joscelyn, as they shook hands, “I suppose so. But I have come for Aimée.”
“Indeed!” said Mrs. Berrien, looking as much surprised as Aimée herself. “What is the matter? Is her mother ill?”
“No, my stepmother is in very good health,” was the reply. “But it is necessary that Aimée should go home. There has been—ahem!—a great change in her circumstances.”
“In her circumstances!” repeated Mrs. Berrien, while Aimée’s eyes grew wide and startled. “What has happened?”
“She has inherited a fortune,” said the young man in tones of such solemnity as the announcement warranted.
“Aimée—inherited a fortune!” cried Mrs. Berrien. If he had announced that Aimée had suddenly been transformed into a royal princess it could hardly have seemed to her more incredible. “You are surely mistaken.”
Percy Joscelyn smiled with an air of superior knowledge. “In such matters there is not much room for mistake,” he said. “You have heard, I presume, of Henry Dunstan?”
“My brother’s half-brother—my stepmother’s son by another marriage? Of course. But he went to South America and died years ago.”
“On the contrary, he died only last month; and, having lost his wife and only child, he made a will just before he died leaving his fortune to the children of his half-brother, Edward Vincent, of whom, as you know, Aimée is the only child.”