When these startling sentences penetrated to Katherine's comprehension she saw as with a flash their far-reaching consequences. Her uncle's will suppressed, his son and natural heir would take everything. And her dear boys—how would they fare?
She sat with wide-dilated eyes, gazing at the hard, displeased face of this unwelcome intruder. There were a few moments of profound silence; the old lawyer's hands, which relaxed their grasp of his chair as he looked with startled amazement at his late client's son, visibly trembled.
Liddell was the first to speak. "So you thought I was dead and out of the way," he said, with a sneer; "that nothing would happen to disturb the fortunate possessor of my father's money. I was dead and done for, and a good riddance."
"But how—how is it that you are alive!" stammered Mr. Newton.
"Oh, that I can easily account for." And he looked round for a chair.
"Yes, pray sit down," said Mr. Newton, recovering himself.
Here Katherine, with the unconscious tact of a sensitive woman, feeling how terrible it must be to find one's continued existence a source of regret to others, rose and held out her hand. "Let me, your kinswoman," she said, "welcome you back to life and home. I hope there are many happy years before you."
Liddell was greatly surprised. He mechanically took the hand offered to him, and looking earnestly into her face, exclaimed, "Who are you?"
"Katherine Liddell, your uncle Frederic's daughter."
He dropped—indeed, almost threw—her hand from him. "What!" he cried, "are you the supplanter, who took all without an inquiry, without an effort to find out if I were dead or alive?"