Violet gazed at him with a swelling heart and swept poor Phil with a supercilious glance wholly undeserved, but of which he was unconscious.
Edgar hastened into the house to make his preparations and Kathleen and Phil exchanged a look.
"It's all for the best," said Phil in a low tone. "Edgar will find himself."
Kathleen's hands were clasped on her breast. Mrs. Fabian regarded her beseechingly. "What do you mean?" she cried, her voice breaking hysterically. "Money and friends! What do you mean?"
Kathleen sank into the chair beside her. "I mean that father is an honest man," she said proudly.
Mr. Tremaine came to Mrs. Fabian's other side. "I was at college with your husband," he said. "Henry Fabian was always doing fine things. I suspect that this last move, whatever it is, is one of the finest. I would trust him before I would myself."
Mrs. Fabian looked from one to the other, tears running down her cheeks.
"I can't have my portrait painted, Phil," she faltered. "We're very poor."
Phil knelt down before her and put his arms around her and she rested her head on his shoulder and sobbed quietly.
"Perhaps not poor," he said; "but what if you are, Aunt Isabel? Look about at this beautiful place with everything to make people happy. Health and freedom and honor beside; and Edgar will bring his father here and everything will straighten out and we shall make him forget his troubles."