The colour flew into Aldyth's face. "Oh, Guy, why should you!" she exclaimed, deeply pained. "Surely things cannot be comfortable enough for you at the Farm, and there is no reason why you should not remain here."
"Excuse me," he said, proudly; "you do not understand. I see strong reasons why this house can no longer be my home."
"Oh, Guy, you speak as if we were enemies," said Aldyth. "Is it my fault that Wyndham was left to me? You know I would rather it had not been."
To these words Guy made no reply whatever, and his silence was irritating to Aldyth. She felt that he wanted to put her in the wrong. But she controlled herself, and after a few moments' reflection sympathy overcame irritation.
"It is dreadfully trying for you, I know, Guy," she said. "How I wish I could set it all right! You are mistaken if you think I rejoice at what has happened."
A low, impatient exclamation escaped her cousin.
"Why cannot you stay on here with me and aunt?" asked Aldyth, with the kindest intentions. "You need not think of getting your own house ready till Hilda is prepared to share it."
"If I wait for that, I shall wait a long time," he said, bitterly. "Do you think I can contemplate marriage on the income I shall draw from that wretched farm? I am not such a fool. No, that dream is over."
"Guy!" exclaimed Aldyth, startled and distressed.
It had not struck her that Hilda's happiness might be imperilled by the new, wholly unlooked-for turn of affairs. She recoiled afresh from the position in which she found herself. Wild ideas of setting aside her uncle's will, of insisting upon an equal division of the property, of refusing to live at Wyndham, flitted through her brain, only to be followed by a keen sense of their impracticability.