Vera did not appear to be listening. Her beautiful face had a grave look upon it now. She hesitated for a moment before she spoke. There was no hurry about her words, but Ravenspur could not fail to see that she was palpably nervous.
"It will not be for long, then," she said. "My dear guardian, can I have a few moments' conversation with you? It is not so very late, and one so seldom gets an opportunity."
"How grave you are," Ravenspur smiled. "We will go as far as the library, if you like, and then I can smoke a cigar and listen to your weighty utterances. Come along."
It was cosy enough in the library, and much more inviting of confidences than the stately splendour of the pillared hall. Ravenspur threw himself back in an armchair and lighted a cigar. Then he signified to Vera to proceed. Her lips were trembling now. Something bright and diamond-like twinkled under her lashes.
"You have been very kind to me," she said unsteadily.
"Have I really, my dear? Nothing out of the common, I am sure. And what have I done? Given you a good education and found you a comfortable home; and from first to last you have never caused me a moment's anxiety. I have become as fond of you as if you were my own child. It will be a genuine grief to me when the right man comes along and takes you away from here."
"There is not much fear of that," Vera smiled wistfully. "Of course, you may think me ungrateful. You may say that I am showing a great deal of dissatisfaction----"
"My dear girl, you are not dissatisfied, surely?"
"I am afraid I am. You see, things cannot go on like this. I hate to have to talk in such a fashion, but the time has come when I must speak. All these years you have been showering benefits upon me. You have been treating me as if I were your own flesh and blood. The money alone that I must have cost you is enormous; and, so far as I know, I have not a penny."
"You will have when I die," Ravenspur said lightly.