“He sent me a hundred pounds, Gertie, in an order on a London bank; and he said if I ever sold that watch he would never forgive me, for it was his father’s wish that he should send it as a specimen of the gold I had disbelieved in. A hundred pounds, Gertie, and ever since, for four years now, he has sent me twenty-five pounds every quarter.”
“Then he thinks you are poor?”
“Yes, he did till I sent to him to come home. But I invested every penny, Gertie, and there is the interest; and now what do you say? Is he a true man—good enough to love?”
“Oh, uncle—yes!” cried the girl, with the tears glittering in her eyes.
“Yes, my darling, a worthy husband for you; one who will love and protect you when I’m gone.”
“But, uncle, dear—” faltered the girl.
“Yes—yes?”
“Does—does he know?”
“That he is to marry you? Yes. He knows by now that he is a rich man, or will be when I’m gone, and that he has the sweetest, truest little wife waiting for him here. Put the book away; you and Mr Hampton know everything. Lock up the cabinet and put the keys under the pillow again; and some morning, when you find I’m too fast asleep to wake again, take the keys and keep them for my dear boy.”
“Oh, uncle, dearest!” sobbed the girl.