Therefore Cora had risen very early that morning and had gone down into the little office or library of the Iron King, that was situated at the rear of the middle hall, there to wait for him, as it was his custom to rise early and go into his study, to look over the papers before breakfast. These papers were brought by a special messenger from North End, who started from the depot as soon as the earliest train arrived with the morning's mail and reached Rockhold by seven o'clock.
She had not sat there many minutes before Mr. Rockharrt entered the study.
"I am going away with my brother," Cora said, without any preface whatever, "to Fort Farthermost, on the southwestern Indian frontier."
"I think you must be crazy."
"Dear grandpa, this is no impulsive purpose of mine. I have thought of it ever since—ever since—the death of my dear husband," said Cora, in a broken voice.
"Oh! the death of your dear husband!" he exclaimed, rudely interrupting her. "Much you cared for the death of your dear husband! If you had, you would never have driven him forth to his death!—for that is what you did! You cannot deceive me now. As long as the fate of Rule Rothsay was a mystery, I was myself at somewhat of a loss to account for his disappearance—though I suspected you even then—but when the news came that he had been killed by the Comanches near the boundaries of Mexico, and I had time to reflect on it all, I knew that he had been driven away by you—you! And all for the sake of a titled English dandy! You need not deny it, Cora Rothsay!"
"It would be quite useless to deny anything that you choose to assert, sir," replied the young lady, coldly but respectfully. "Yet I must say this, that I loved and honored my husband more than I ever did or ever can love and honor any other human being. His departure broke my spirit, and his death has nearly broken my heart—certainly it has blasted my future. My life is worth nothing, nothing to me, except as I make it useful to those who need my help."
"Rubbish!" exclaimed old Aaron Rockharrt, turning over the leaves of his paper and looking for the financial column.
"Grandfather, please hear me patiently for a few minutes, for after to-day I do not know that we may ever meet again," pleaded Cora.
The old man laid his open paper on his knees, set his spectacles up on his head, and looked at her.