"And I, while I live, will be a son to you, madam! I will be your constant friend at Hurricane Hall. He talks of making me his heir. Should he persist in such blind injustice, the day I come into the property I shall turn it all over to his widow and son. But I do not believe that he will persist; I, for my part, still hope for the best."
"I also hope for the best, for whatever God wills is sure to happen, and His will is surely the best! Yes, Herbert, I also hope—beyond the grave!" said Marah Rocke, with a wan smile.
The little clock that stood between the tall, plated candlesticks on the mantelpiece struck twelve, and Marah rose from her seat, saying:
"Traverse, poor fellow, will be home to his dinner. Not a word to him, Herbert, please! I do not wish the poor lad to know how much he has lost, and above all, I do not wish him to be prejudiced against his father."
"You are right, Marah," said Herbert, "for if he were told, the natural indignation that your wrongs would arouse in his heart would totally unfit him to meet his father in a proper spirit in that event for which I still hope—a future and a perfect family union!"
Herbert Greyson remained a week with his friends, during which time he paid the quarter's rent, and relieved his adopted mother of that cause of anxiety. Then he took leave and departed for Hurricane Hall, on his way to Washington City, where he was immediately going to pass his examination and await his appointment.