“Brothers and sisters?” She tried to help his memory.
“No.”
“Who, then?”
“My legacy’s too great to leave to any individual.” Hildegarde’s eyes kindled with excitement. All the talk about Nome had given her a sense of living in an atmosphere of mighty enterprise, of giant losses, and of fabulous gain. She was primed to hear of lucky millions stumbled on by chance.
“You want to make a bequest to the nation?” Why was he hesitating, she wondered impatiently, as he flung again that same intent look out of doors? She knew he could see nothing but the wild, white horses climbing the rocky shore to look across the tundra. She knew he could hear nothing but the thunder of their hoof-beats on the beach.
At last he spoke. “They said my trouble was ambition.” And still his ears waited for some sound beyond Hildegarde’s hearing, and still his eyes saw more than hers.
He was silent so long she adventured in the dark, “Did you leave ambition ‘up yonder,’ too?”
“Yes, up yonder!” But he brought out the words triumphantly, and he paused upon a broken breath still listening. “Ky,” he whispered, “the lady likes exploring, but she’s afraid to shut the door. Go out, Ky, and see if that old villain’s hanging about. Ky!”
The beast took her nose out of the blanket, and seemed to implore him to reconsider his command.
“Go out and explore! Go—once more!” There was a curious gentle note in the weak voice.