“No,” she said.
“And give Hadrian my watch and chain, and a hundred pounds out of what’s in the bank—and help him if he ever wants helping. I haven’t put his name in the will.”
“Your watch and chain, and a hundred pounds—yes. But you’ll be here when he goes back to Canada, father.”
“You never know what’ll happen,” said her father.
Matilda sat and watched him, with her full, haggard eyes, for a long time, as if tranced. She saw that he knew he must go soon—she saw like a clairvoyant.
Later on she told Emmie what her father had said about the watch and chain and the money.
“What right has he”—he—meaning Hadrian—“to my father’s watch and chain—what has it to do with him? Let him have the money, and get off,” said Emmie. She loved her father.
That night Matilda sat late in her room. Her heart was anxious and breaking, her mind seemed entranced. She was too much entranced even to weep, and all the time she thought of her father, only her father. At last she felt she must go to him.
It was near midnight. She went along the passage and to his room. There was a faint light from the moon outside. She listened at his door. Then she softly opened and entered. The room was faintly dark. She heard a movement on the bed.
“Are you asleep?” she said softly, advancing to the side of the bed.