“Your heiress!” Mrs. Richards cried, growing pale.
“Yes; Miss Gladstone is named as such in my will, which is now in the hands of my lawyer,” the old gentleman replied, quietly.
His niece looked from one to the other in blank dismay. She had feared she should hear something of the kind, but it was none the less a shock to her when it came.
“Your heiress—heiress to what?” she demanded, sharply.
“To the whole of my fortune, madam.”
“Your fortune!” she sneered, but her voice was hoarse from passion and baffled hopes. “A year ago it was—beggary!”
Mr. Rosevelt smiled serenely.
“Apparently, yes,” he answered. “But I was then, what I am now—a millionaire. The mistake of your life-time was made then, Ellen; for if you had cordially received the feeble old man who came to your house in such a forlorn condition; if you had given him kindness and sympathy, such as you were wont to do when he was rich and prosperous; if you had shown him something of love and tenderness, instead of coldness and contempt, making him feel that he was a burden and an intruder, you would have had the bulk of my fortune, for your brother had already forfeited his share. I thought that my final return to this country would give me a good opportunity to test your and Henry’s sincerity, and I resolved to do so. I went to him as a poor man; I was received coldly, and made as uncomfortable as it was possible for any one to be made. Then I said to myself, ‘Ellen’s womanly heart will prompt her to be kind to me, if not for my own sake, for her father’s,’ and so I came to you also in the guise of poverty.”
“It was mean—it was dishonorable to take advantage of me in that way,” Mrs. Richards said, with white, quivering lips.
“Not at all. I wanted to know you as you were, not what you pretended to be. I do not need to tell you the result of my plan; we all know it but too well. No one gave me a word of sympathy or kindness save this dear girl”—he laid his hand tenderly on Star’s shoulder—“who did her utmost to make the old man forget as far as was possible his bitter disappointment, and who had already earned his love and gratitude by saving his life, almost at the sacrifice of her own, during that terrible voyage across the Atlantic. She has been like a sunbeam to me from the first; and when I saw how unkind you all were to her also—how you were betraying your trust and breaking your promise to her dying father—I resolved that she should become my especial care for the future.