Laura Malcolm was seated at the bedside, but she rose as John entered, and slipped quietly away by another door, leaving him alone with his cousin.
‘Sit down, John,’ the old man said in a feeble voice, pointing to the empty chair by the bedside.
‘It is rather late in the day for us two to meet,’ he went on, after a brief pause, ‘but perhaps it is better for us to see each other once before I die. I won’t speak of your father’s quarrel with me. You know all about that, I dare say. We were both in the wrong, very likely; but it has long been too late to undo that. I loved him once, God knows!—Yes, there was a day when I loved Richard Treverton dearly.’
‘I have heard him say as much, sir,’ John answered in subdued tones. ‘I regret that he should have quarrelled with you; I regret much more that he should not have sought a reconciliation.’
‘Your father was always a proud man, John. Perhaps I liked him all the better for that. Most men in his position would have courted me for the sake of my money. He never did that.’
‘It was not in him to do it, sir. He had his faults, I have no doubt, but a sordid nature was not one of them.’
‘I know that,’ answered Jasper Treverton, ‘nor have you ever sought me out, John, or tried to worm yourself into my favour. Yet I suppose you know that you are my sole surviving relative.’
‘Yes, sir, I am quite aware of that.’
‘And you have left me in peace, and have been content to take your chance. Well, you will find yourself none the worse off for having respected yourself and not worried me.’
John Treverton’s face flushed, and the beating of his heart quickened again, as it had quickened when Laura Malcolm told him of his kinsman’s vow.