“Are you in earnest?” asked Mr Rainy gravely.
“Surely, I am in earnest.”
“Do you mean to say that you refuse to receive the property which your husband left to you? Is it because of the condition? No, it cannot be that, for I named no condition. And indeed it is hardly a condition. It is rather a request.”
Allison asked no question, though he paused expectant.
“The condition—if it can be called a condition—is easy enough to fulfil. It is to take possession of a fine house, and live in it—a while every year, anyway, and to call yourself by your husband’s name. Is that a hard thing to do?”
Allison grew red and then pale.
“I have nothing to say about any condition. With no condition my decision would have been the same. What you have to do must be done with no thought of me.”
“But what is your reason? What would you have? You were friends with him. You were good to him all those long months. You had forgiven him before he died.”
“I think I had forgiven him long before that time. I came to him because I was sorry for him, and he, too, had something to forgive. I wished to be at peace with him before he died, for his sake and for my own.”
“What more need be said? You had forgiven one another, and he wished to make amends. Give me a reason for this most astonishing resolution.”