“Good heavens,” exclaimed Elinor, her thoughts turning to the real Edward Paxton, who was at that moment lying on his back under the Comet, cleaning the machinery. “But don’t you think it can be patched up? He’s only a boy. Surely, she will take him back.”
“I’m afraid not,” answered Clarence, smiling with secret pleasure. “I doubt it very much. Georgiana has been on her knees to Grandmamma, but the old General only says, ‘Don’t let me hear you speak that name again.’”
“And what have you done for him? Anything?”
Clarence shrugged his shoulders.
“If Georgiana could do nothing, you don’t suppose I could?”
“But think of his being in a strange country without any money or friends? Couldn’t you let him have some of your allowance until he gets a start?”
“Hardly. My allowance is not sufficient for my own wants.”
Here was a state of things, indeed. Elinor began to wonder how Edward Paxton could ever induce his grandmother to forgive the trick he had played on her. Would she ever listen to him? Would she even see him, no matter how many proofs he could give her that he was the real Edward Paxton? And where, oh where, was Edward l’Estrange?
“Then you will be your grandmother’s heir,” she said presently, breaking the silence which had fallen between them.
“Oh, Georgiana will have a little, I suppose,” he replied carelessly. “But I shall have the bulk, of course. You see Grandmamma’s second husband, Mr. Steele, who left most of the money, had no heirs.”