"I shall not hoard it," he answered, and his face flushed.
"It will be yours from next month. I am expecting my lawyer, Mr. Wiltshire, to call here this afternoon. Several matters have to be arranged. Maurice, you will live with me for the present; that is, until you marry."
"I do not mean to marry," he answered.
"All young men say that," she replied. "You will marry as others do. You will fall in love and you will marry. I shall be very glad indeed to welcome your wife. She shall have the best and most affectionate welcome from me, and I will treat her as though she were my daughter: just as I treat you, Maurice, as though you were my real son."
"But I cannot forget that I am not your son," he answered. "Mrs. Aylmer, there is something I must say."
His words disturbed her for a moment; she did not speak, but looked at him in a puzzled manner; then she said: "If you have something disagreeable to tell me (and I cannot imagine what it is), at least hear my point of view first. I am particularly anxious that you should marry. As my heir, you are already comparatively rich, and your expectations are excellent. You will have at my death a very large income. You will also be the owner of this fine property. Now, I should like you to marry, and I should like you to marry wealth."
"Why so? How unfair!" said the young man.
"It is a wish of mine. Wealth attracts wealth. There is a girl whom I have heard of—whom I have, I believe, some years ago seen—a very sweet, very graceful, very pretty girl. Her name is Miss Sharston. She was poor, but I have lately heard that Sir John Wallis, the owner of Cherry Court Park, in Buckinghamshire, is going to make her his heiress. She is coming on a visit here. I cannot, of course, force your inclination, Maurice; but if by any chance you and Catherine Sharston should take a fancy to each other, it would be a union after my own heart."
"Thank you," he answered. He rose immediately to his feet. "You are treating me with your customary liberality. You have always been most liberal, most generous. I am the son of a widow with very small means. My father was strictly a man of honour. He was a soldier, and he fell in his country's cause. I hope that, although he could not leave me gold, he could and did leave me honour. I cannot afford to have my honour tarnished."
"Maurice! I tarnish your honour! You really make very extraordinary insinuations. What does this mean?"