"Pardon me, I am a Massereene."
"You are an Amherst." With some excitement and considerable irritation. "Your mother must count in some way, and you—you bear a strong resemblance to every second portrait of our ancestors in the gallery upstairs. I wrote, therefore, to bring you here that I might personally desire you to give up your scheme of self-support and come to live at Herst as its mistress."
"'Its mistress'!" repeats Molly, in utter amazement. "And how about Marcia?"
"She shall be amply portioned,—if you consent to my proposal."
She is quite silent for a moment or two, pondering slowly; then, in a low, curious tone, she says:
"And what is to become of my sister?"
"Your step-sister-in-law, you mean." Contemptuously. "I dare say she will manage to live without your assistance."
Molly's blue eyes here show signs of coming fight; so do her hands. Although they hang open and motionless at her sides, there is a certain tension about the fingers that in a quick, warm temperament betokens passion.
"And my dead brother's children?"
"They too can live, no doubt. They are no whit worse off than if you had never been among them."