“If I didn’t, I should be very stupid,” observed Katharine.
“No, no! I mean—if I thought you couldn’t understand it—well, I’ll be hanged if I wouldn’t pretty nearly let the millions go, rather than displease you!”
He blurted out the last words bluntly, as such men say wild but sincerely meant things. Katharine understood.
“Please don’t say such foolish things, cousin Ham. You know it’s perfectly absurd to talk of sacrificing a fortune in that way. Besides, you’d have no right not to fight your best. Two-thirds of what you’ll get will go to your mother and sister. You haven’t the slightest right even to think of the possibility of sacrificing aunt Maggie and Hester.”
“No. I suppose I’ve not. And I know that it isn’t as though you weren’t to have a big fortune anyway, however it turns out. Perhaps I’m a fool, but I simply can’t bear to think of being opposed to you in anything. That’s the plain fact, in two words.”
Katharine heard a sort of unsteadiness in the tone, and looked at him for a moment in silence.
“Thank you, cousin Ham,” she said. “You’re a good friend. Thank you.” She laid her hand upon his arm for an instant.
“That’s better than millions,” answered Bright, in an undertone, for his mother was just entering the room.
Mrs. Bright might well be pardoned if she did not assume a lugubrious and funereal expression that evening. To her, Robert Lauderdale had been a distant relation of enormous wealth, from whom she had little or nothing to expect, and whom she rarely saw. She had never needed his help, and though he had occasionally remembered her and sent her a jewel at Christmas, neither she nor her son had ever felt very much indebted to him. The surprise was therefore overwhelming, and the rejoicing inevitable and natural. Knowing, however, how dearly the old man had loved Katharine, and that she had been with him at the time of his death and had been really fond of him, Mrs. Bright avoided the subject altogether during dinner. It would not keep out of her face, however, nor out of her manner. Once or twice she and her son exchanged glances, and both suppressed a happy smile. Katharine saw, understood, and felt sad. The conversation turned upon generalities and was not very amusing.
Katharine could not help thinking of what Bright had said to her just before dinner. At the moment, he had undoubtedly meant that he would sacrifice the vast inheritance rather than incur her momentary displeasure. Of course, she said to herself, when the case arose he would not really have done so, but she could not but appreciate the reckless generosity of the thought, and wonder at the possible strength of the love that had prompted it. He had spoken so earnestly and there had been such a perceptible tremor in his voice, that she had been glad when Mrs. Bright’s appearance had cut short the interview. While she talked indifferently during dinner, her thoughts dwelt on what Ralston had said about Bright’s feelings and then went back to Ralston himself, who was almost always present in her reflections. She felt that she should not have felt any surprise if he had spoken as Bright had done. It would have been quite natural. She might even have thought of accepting the sacrifice.