"But can't you stop him? Let Venie take a telegwaf."
"No, no!" The high wind, in which the great chair rocked, died down, the angry animation faded out of the old face, leaving it older still and very weary. "No, no; these things are not to be forced. It's natural. He has been with Aaron Tallmadge all his days; he is his heir. He lives in a world where men think much of the bond of money, and little of the bond of blood. I shall not write again."
She folded up the letter and put it in its envelope. Her head drooped over the task.
"I thought cousin Ethan loved being here?"
"A long time ago. He was very little."
"But he never forgot?"
"It used to seem so."
Lower the old head sank, till the folds of white veil, falling on either side, met like two drawn curtains across her face.
"But you could see in his letters he was terribly sad and sorry to have put off coming—just to please his grandfather."
"Ah, well! it was a long time ago, and he was very little."