Diana started and recoiled.
"You mean," she said--her breath fluttering--"that--mamma sold things she had no right to--and never gave Aunt Bertha the money!"
The restrained passion of her look had an odd effect upon her companion. Fanny first wavered under it, then laughed--a laugh that was partly perplexity, partly something else, indecipherable.
"Well, as I wasn't born then, I don't know. You needn't be cross with me, Diana; I didn't mean to say any harm of anybody. But--mother says"--she laid an obstinate stress on each word--"that she remembers quite well--grandpapa meant her to have: a diamond necklace; a rivière" (she began to check the items off on her fingers)--"there were two, and of course Aunt Sparling had the best; two bracelets, one with turquoises and one with pearls; a diamond brooch; an opal pendant; a little watch set with diamonds grandma used to wear; and then a lot of plate! Mother wrote me out a list--I've got it here."
She opened a beaded bag on her wrist, took out half a sheet of paper, and handed it to Diana.
Diana looked at it in silence. Even her lips were white, and her fingers shook.
"Did you ever send this to papa?" she asked, after a minute.
Fanny fidgeted again.
"Yes."
"And what did he say? Have you got his letter?"