"Oh, no. He would never leave it to us. He didn't like me, for one thing. But that was my fault, perhaps. He was not over-kind to my mother, and so I never liked him."
And here at length she burst into tears. She wept very quietly, however, and Mr. Sargent went on.
"But you must be his heirs-at-law. Will you allow me to make inquiry—to do anything that may be necessary, for you? Don't misunderstand me," he added, pleadingly. "It is only as a friend—what I have been for a long time now, Lucy."
Lucy scarcely hesitated before she answered, with a restraint that appeared like coldness:
"Thank you, Mr. Sargent. The business cannot in any case be mine. It is my grandmother's, and I can, and will, take no hand in it."
"Will you say to your grandmother that I am at her service?"
"If it were a business matter, there is no one I would more willingly—ask to help us; but as you say it is a matter of friendship, I must refuse your kindness."
Mr. Sargent was vexed with himself, and disappointed with her. He supposed that she misinterpreted his motives. Between the two, he was driven to a sudden, unresolved action of appeal.
"Miss Burton," he said, "for God's sake, do not misunderstand me, and attribute to mercenary motives the offer I make only in the confidence that you will not do me such an injustice."
Lucy was greatly distressed. Her color went and came for a few moments, and then she spoke.