"Grandfather," she said, "I am not going to ask any more questions about the past. I don't see that it matters at all. I should like to have known that my father was--was glad of me; my mother must have been, I think, though she died so soon. But I should like to know what is in the future. What--what do you expect me to do? Do you wish me to marry?"
He turned round in his chair, and looked at her helplessly.
"That is rather a peculiar question, my dear," he said feebly, "but, of course----"
"Don't answer it if it worries you, please," she urged quickly; "but if you could speak of it--it would be a great help."
Vaguely she felt choky over the last words. It did seem so hard to be left all alone in the wide world to face these dark problems.
"It--it is not a usual subject for discussion, even between parent and child, Aura," he replied; "but if you ask me--yes. I am extremely anxious for you to marry."
"Why?" The question came swiftly.
Mr. Sylvanus Smith put down his pen finally, and turned his feet to the fire. He thought for a moment of quite a variety of reasons. Because it was the natural end of woman; ... but for years past he had laboured in vain to convince the world that marriage was slavery. Because he wished her to be happy?... but so many marriages were unhappy. Because he would have liked to see grandchildren about him?... but in his innermost heart he knew that a few months of life was all for which he had any right to look.
He decided finally on the real reason.
"Because--because when I die, my child, and that cannot be far off----"