"How do you do this morning, Miss Lynde?" said Mr. Singleton, who tried to conceal a certain awkwardness under more than his usual geniality of manner. "I hope we have not disturbed you too early, but I had your permission to present my cousin, Mr. George Singleton."
"Not my permission only, but my request," observed Marion, looking at the tall, handsome stranger, who bowed. "I am very glad to see Mr. George Singleton—at last."
"You are very good to say so," replied that gentleman, easily. "I assure you that, so far from expecting you to be glad to see me, I feel as apologetic as possible about my existence. Pray believe, Miss Lynde, that I mean to give you as little trouble as possible. I have no doubt we can soon arrive at an amicable arrangement."
"I have no doubt of it," said Marion, calmly. "But you will allow me to say how sorry I am that any arrangement should be necessary,—that your father was not aware of your existence when he made his will."
Mr. George Singleton shrugged his shoulders. "I am by no means certain that my father believed me to be dead," he answered. "At least he had no special reason for such a belief. He had indeed not heard from or of me in a long time, because that was thoroughly settled when we parted. I threw off his control, and he washed his hands of me. But I hardly thought he would ignore me completely in his will. No doubt he had a right to do so, for I had ignored every duty of a son; but he should have remembered that he also had something to answer for in our estrangement. However, that is neither here nor there. What I mean to say is that the consciousness of my shortcomings will make me easy to deal with; for I feel that my father was in great measure justified when he selected another heir."
This cool, careless frankness was so unexpected that for a moment Marion could only look at the speaker with a sense of surprise. He was so totally unlike what she had imagined! His bold, bright glance met hers, and, as if divining her thoughts, he smiled.
"Don't expect me to be like other people, Miss Lynde," he continued. "Tom here will tell you that I never was. Even as a boy I was always a law unto myself—a wild creature whom nothing could tame or restrain. Perhaps it is because I am still something of a wild man that I see no reason why we should not discuss and settle this business between us in a friendly manner. I have only the most friendly sentiments for you, being aware that my coming to life is rather hard lines for you."
Marion could not but respond to his smile and what seemed to be the genuine though somewhat blunt friendliness of his manner. Yet when she spoke her tone was slightly haughty.
"Pray do not think of me," she said. "The fact that your father left his fortune to me was the greatest surprise of my life,—a surprise from which I have hardly yet recovered. Naturally, therefore, it will be no great hardship to give it up."
"But I don't ask you to give it up," replied the tall, dark man, hastily. "There is enough to divide, and I assure you I am not a grasping fellow. Ask Tom if I am."