“I do not want it, Everet; I have enough without it. I would much prefer that the rightful heir should have it.”
“I suppose you will advertise for Annie Dale, or for her nearest of kin?” Everet said, bending a keen look upon his father.
“I don’t know. I shall have to think the matter over first—perhaps consult my lawyer about it,” Colonel Mapleson replied, meditatively.
He fell into deep thought, and neither spoke for several minutes.
At length the colonel glanced up at the clock.
“Well,” he remarked, with a sigh, “I have business to attend to, and I must be off.”
He arose, gathered up the papers, carefully wrapping them all together, then, locking them into a drawer of his desk, he abruptly left the room.
Everet sat there for more than an hour afterward, his head bowed upon his hand, thinking deeply, his brow contracted, his whole face wearing a perplexed and troubled look.
At length, he, too, left the house, ordered his horse, and rode away in the direction of the old mill.
Reaching the Dale cottage, which was evidently his destination, he dismounted, fastened his horse, and then bent his steps around to the back door, intending to force an entrance, as before; and yet, if any one had asked the question, he could not have told why he had come there again.