“I wonder you did not do it,” said the Countess thoughtfully. “Miss Rosa must be very rich.”
“Yes,” said Lily. “Cousin Rosa is certainly very rich. But I should have become melancholy mad—living that sort of life!”
There was a pause. “And who will get her money?” asked the Countess.
Lily hesitated a moment—then, “I believe—in fact I know, for she told Uncle Tom so three or four years ago—that I am to have most of it, Aunt Cosy.”
“You. Lily Fairfield?”
There was an extraordinary accent of surprise, excitement, and gratification in Aunt Cosy’s vibrant voice.
She stopped in her vigorous walk and turned and faced the girl. “Oh, you English?” she exclaimed. “How unemotional and cold you are! You do not show the slightest joy or excitement when telling this wonderful news. Why, Miss Rosa Fairfield must have—how much?” As Lily said nothing, the Countess went on: “A hundred thousand pounds—that is what poor Emmeline told me!”
“Yes, I believe she has quite that.”
“And you do not feel excited?” The Countess Polda gazed searchingly at the now flushed girl.
“I suppose I should have felt excited if I’d suddenly learnt the fact,” said Lily slowly; “But I’ve always known it—in a sort of way. I remember when I was quite a little girl hearing Aunt Rosa say to Uncle Tom that she thought she ought to be consulted about what school I was to be sent to, as I was to be her heiress. But I think Uncle Tom didn’t feel quite sure about it till two or three years ago. She sent for him on purpose to read him her will.”