"Now, mother, what is the matter?" he asked, bending affectionately over her.
"Oh, Valentine!" she said, as soon as she could speak for sobbing, "Oh, Valentine! after all, there is no will!"
"No will!" he repeated, in quiet perplexity, for he did not quite comprehend the cause of her excessive emotion. "No will, did you say, mother?"
"No! no! no! no!" she repeated, tearing her hair, "there is no will! although he promised—and I felt sure he'd keep his word—I never doubted it, because he was an honorable man, after his fashion—there was no will!"
"Well, my dear mother, what of that, that it should distress you so?"
"What of that? Oh, Valley! Valley! what a question!"
"Indeed, I do not know why you should take the non-existence of a will so much to heart, mother," he said, soothingly.
"Oh, Valley! Valley! Master promised faithfully that he would leave you free, and leave you money to take you to France, or to some other foreign country. And he broke his word to me! Master broke his pledged word to me, who served his family so faithfully so many years. I didn't ask for freedom for myself, only for you!"
"Mother, don't take it to heart so! don't go on so, don't."
"Hush! hush! it is the Spanish woman's curse falling on us—me! She cursed me, dying."