“I do not understand,” she said, “but I see you are angry. It is very natural. All I can say is, that I ask your forgiveness. I did not know, when I came to your house last night, that I could not leave my money away from my father.”
“But you knew when you left,” said the lawyer, surlily.
“True, but I had not had time to reflect. I see now that I must leave things as they are.”
“I, too, have had time to reflect, and I have come exactly to the opposite conclusion. You will probably survive the Dominé; you say that you do not intend to marry again; then the best thing you can do is to draw up a will as you intended.”
Ursula looked down at the carpet pattern.
“I am an old friend of the Helmont family,” continued Mynheer Noks. “I do not deny, Mevrouw, that I was sorry to see this manor pass out of their hands. I should be still more sorry, and so would every one, to find the Mopius family ruling here.” He hesitated; then, with an effort, “Mevrouw,” he said, “you are, perhaps, the best judge of your own conduct; but, after your visit last night, you will pardon my calling it strange. I don’t know whether you came of your own free choice. I don’t know what tragedy is being played here. I don’t want to know. But something is happening: I can see that.” Almost involuntarily he pointed to Ursula’s wounded forehead. “All I say is, be careful. You acquired all this property by the merest accident. If any one could have proved that Mynheer Otto lived half an hour longer—there would be no question of any will of yours.”
“What do you mean?” exclaimed Ursula. “Do you dare to accuse me—”
“I accuse nobody. I only say be careful. There are strange stories floating in the air, and your strange conduct can only augment them. It only wants an unscrupulous lawyer—”
“I am not afraid of lawyers,” said Ursula, standing calm and queenly. “I have humbly begged your forgiveness, Mynheer Noks; I can do no more. This interview is at an end.”
She swept to the window, looking out on the lawn, the near cottages, the far-spreading trees.