"In which case your mother would lose all hope of any such advantage."
"Of course, papa."
Charlotte could not help thinking that there was something sordid in this discussion—this calculation of possible gain or loss contingent on her fresh young life. But she concluded that it was the nature of business men to see everything from a debased standpoint, and that Mr. Sheldon was no more sordid than other men of his class.
"Well, papa?" she asked presently, after some moments of silence, during which she and her stepfather had both been absorbed in the contemplation of the fire.
"Well, my dear," replied Mr. Sheldon slowly, "I have been thinking that the natural and easy way of guarding against all contingencies would be by your effecting an insurance on your life in your mother's favour."
"No, no, papa!" cried Charlotte, with unwonted vehemence; "I would rather do anything than that!"
"What can be your objection to such a very simple arrangement?"
"I dare say my objection seems foolish, childish even, papa; but I really have a horror of life assurances. I always think of papa—my own poor father, whom I loved so dearly. It seemed as if he put a price upon his life for us. He was so anxious to insure his life—I remember hearing him talk of it at Hyley, when I was a child—to make things straight, as he said, for us; and, you see, very soon afterwards he died."
"But you can't suppose the insurance of his life had anything to do with his death?"
"Of course not, I am not so childish as that; only—"