"Oh, yes!" her cousin answered. "They have taken the Norton House for the summer, and have brought a beautiful carriage and horses, and servants, with them. Not many people have seen the old gentleman yet. I hear that he is feebler than he was last year."
"Then no doubt Mrs. Singleton still laments touchingly how sad it is for old people—for their own sakes entirely!—when they live too long," said Paul Rathborne, who was present as usual.
"At least she does not devote much of her time and attention to him," responded Mrs. Dalton, "unless report greatly belies her."
"Why should she?" said Rathborne. "He has an expensive, highly-trained nurse for his special service, besides a staff of servants. What could she do for him, except worry him? Oh, no: it is not on account of any demand upon her time or attention that she thinks he lives too long, but because he keeps his fortune in his own hands, and will until death relaxes his hold of it."
"How awful," exclaimed Helen, with a shudder, "to want anybody to die! I cannot believe that Mrs. Singleton does. She seems so kind and pleasant."
"And you think everyone must be kind and pleasant who seems so?" said Rathborne, with a covert sneer. "My dear Helen, it will not do to judge the world by yourself."
"Why not?" asked Helen, innocently. "Why should I not believe that others are honest and sincere as well as myself?"
"Well, really there does not seem any reason on the surface, except that experience proves it otherwise," he answered, with a laugh.
"I hope it may be long before experience proves it to me," said Helen. "I can not bear to think badly of people. It seems to me that it would break my heart to be forced to think badly of any one for whom I cared."
If one heart present felt a twinge of compunction at those words, there was no sign of it; but Mrs. Dalton looked at her daughter with a sudden glance of something like apprehension.