“I couldn’t eat. It would choke me,” Mrs. Swinton said, rebelliously.
Netty, hearing her mother’s voice, came into the room, her eyes red with weeping.
“You’ve heard, mother?” she cried, plaintively.
“I’ve heard, Netty. To-morrow Mrs. Bent will be sorry. We’re no longer paupers, Netty.”
“Why, grandfather isn’t dead?”
“No, but we are rich. He’s a thief. We’ve always 306 been rich. Your grandfather has robbed us of hundreds of thousands—all my mother’s fortune. I’ve only just found it out to-day from a lawyer.”
“Oh, the villain!” cried Netty. “But I shall be jilted all the same. Dick has ruined and disgraced us all. I’m snubbed—jilted—thrown over, because my brother is a felon.”
“Silence, Netty. There are other people in the world beside yourself to think of,” cried the rector.
“Well, nobody ever thinks of me,” sobbed the girl, angrily.
There was a loud rattling at the front door. The rector started, and listened in terror.