"Since these evils have come upon our house—the fate of Anthony, the uncertainty overhanging Herbert, the certain guilt of Cyril," resumed Mr. Dare: "I have asked myself whether the money we inherited from old Mr. Cooper may not have wrought ill for us, instead of good."
"Have wrought ill?"
"Ay! Brought with it a curse, instead of a blessing."
She made no remark.
"He warned us that if we took Edgar Halliburton's share it would not bring us good. Do you remember how eagerly he spoke it? We did take it," Mr. Dare added, dropping his voice to the lowest whisper. "And I believe it has just acted as a curse upon us."
"You are fanciful!" she cried, her hands shivering, as she raised her handkerchief to her pale face.
"No; there's no fancy in it. We should have done well to attend to the warning of the dying. Heaven is my witness that at the time, such a thought as that of appropriating it ourselves never crossed my mind. We launched out into expense, and the other share became a necessity to us. It is that expense which has ruined our children."
"How can you say it?" she rejoined, lifting her hands in a passionate sort of manner.
"It has been nothing else. Had they been reared more plainly, they would not have acquired those extravagant notions which have proved their bane. Without that inheritance and the style of living we allowed it to entail upon us, the boys must have understood that they would have to earn money before they spent it, and they would have put their shoulders to the wheel. Julia," he continued, halting by her, and stretching forth his troubled face until it nearly touched hers, "it might have been well now, well with them and with us, had our children been obliged to battle with the poverty to which we condemned the Halliburtons."