"Humph!" he remembered his first greeting, and looked at her sharply. "Perhaps you did not know until then, just how his affairs stood?"
"No, sir, I did not. Our daughter Olive was her father's book-keeper and confidante; she knew all; but with his ever thoughtful consideration, he hoped to settle his business difficulty without worrying me, and I did not know until after I left you last night, how deep had been his trouble."
"Olive,—hum, ha!" said Mr. Congreve, nodding decidedly, and really looking pleased. "She's the one that said she hated me last night; good! I'll wager my hat she saw my letter; I like her spunk; she's a thorough Congreve. Your oldest, I suppose?"
"Oh no, she's quite a child in years, not yet sixteen."
"God bless my soul! you don't say so; only fifteen, and a book-keeper, and shares her father's troubles, and flies like a tiger into a man's face who don't do to suit her!—hum!
"I should like to see her again. I should, indeed."
Mrs. Dering could not restrain a smile at the utter amazement depicted in his face. He looked like a man who was undergoing a constant shower-bath, and didn't know what to make of it.
"I am very sorry," she said. "It grieves me that Olive has an exceedingly peculiar and unforgiving disposition. She was devoted to her father, and you are quite correct in your supposition that she saw your letter."
"And consequently don't want to see any more of me," said Mr. Congreve, with a quick nod, and as Mrs. Dering made no denial, he got up, and seizing his cane, began to walk up and down the room, and Mrs. Dering watching his face, saw therein a struggle of some kind. In truth, he was turning over in his mind a confession, which his obstinate pride struggled against, but which a new, strange feeling, that told him he did not want this family's contempt and hatred, claimed and conquered. He stopped in his restless walk, and faced her suddenly.
"I have been angry with my nephew for years, you know that, and you know my nature," he said sharply, all the more so to hide his feelings. "When I wrote that letter I meant every word of it, and as many more of the same kind, but some womanish weakness afterwards possessed me, and on the day that I heard of his death, I had a letter written to him, containing the check for six thousand."