He surveyed Ben with interest and curiosity and was forced to admit that he was a most attractive boy.
“You, at any rate look the picture of health,” he said.
“Yes, Mr. Wentworth, but you are under a mistake. My name is not Edwin Harcourt, but Ben Bruce.”
“Where then is Edwin?” asked Basil in great surprise.
“He died over a year since. Mrs. Harcourt seems to have adopted me in his place.”
“But in that case,” and Basil stopped short, for he did not like to speak ill of the dead.
“I know what you would say, Mr. Wentworth, but if any wrong has been done it will be repaired. I have a letter here written by Mrs. Harcourt, which I opened after her death. It will explain all.”
Basil Wentworth read the letter in silence.
“So far as I am concerned,” he said, “I freely forgive my cousin the deception. Of course you had no suspicion of the real state of things.”
“No, Mr. Wentworth. I certainly should not have consented to keep my friend Frank Mordaunt and his family out of the money that justly belongs to him.”