“It is very bitter,” he said. “I had hoped to provide for my child, but I was not able. But there, you are stronger of mind than I, and you will be protected. That woman, Mrs Barclay, loves you, my child. But Morton, he is a mere boy, and weak—weak and vain, like his father, my child—as I have been. Watch over him, Claire. Advise him when he is falling away.”
“Oh, yes, yes, yes, father; but you—”
“I shall be at rest, my child,” he said sadly. “Do not think of me. Then there is—”
He paused for a few moments with his lips quivering till he saw her inquiring eyes, and with a heavy sigh he went on.
”—There is May.”
He paused again, to go on almost lightly, but she read the agony in his eyes, and clung to his arm and held it to her breast.
“This is like my will,” he said, “the only one I shall make. There is May. I have not been fair, my dear. I have given her all my love—to your neglect. I have made her my idol, and—and—like her brother Morton, she is very weak. Such a pretty child, beautiful as an angel. Claire dearest, I loved her so well, and it has been my punishment for my injustice to you.”
“Dearest father!”
“Yes, I was unjust to you, but that is past. I pray your forgiveness, my child, as I say to you, I leave you the legacy of that boy and girl—that child-wife. Claire, you must forgive her, as I pray Him to forgive me. Ignore the past, Claire, my child, and in every way you can be ready to step between her and the evil that she goes too near. You will do this?”
“Oh, father, yes. But you? What shall I do now?”