“In other words, you wish me to reform either my character or my manners, or both? Do you know that old Tom Craik ruined my father? Do you know that after he had done that, he let my father’s reputation suffer, though my father was as honest as the daylight, and he himself was the thief? That sounds very dramatic and theatrical, does it not? It is all very true nevertheless. And yet, you expect me to be such a clever actor as not to show my satisfaction at your news. All I can say, Miss Fearing, is that you expect a great deal of human nature, and that I am very sorry to be the particular individual who is fated to disappoint your expectations.”
“Of course you feel strongly about it—I did not know all you have just told me, or I would not have spoken. I wish every one could forgive—it is so right to forgive.”
“Yes—undoubtedly,” assented George. “Begin by forgiving me, please, and then tell me what is the matter with the worthy Mr. Craik.”
“Mrs. Trimm seems to think it is nervous prostration—what everybody has nowadays.”
“Is she very much cut up?” George asked with an air of concern.
“She writes that she does not leave him.”
“Nor will—until——” George stopped short.
“What were you going to say?”
“I was going to make a remark about the human will in general and about the wills of dying men in particular. It was very ill-natured, and in direct contradiction to your orders.”
“I suppose she will have all his fortune in any case,” observed Constance, repressing a smile, as though she felt that it would not suit the tone she had taken before.