“I think he was, my dear Mrs. Maynard. Why do you doubt it?”
“Would any man in his right senses make such an absurd will as that?”
“Why, Mrs. Maynard, I do not see anything absurd in it. He has left you well cared for.”
“Well cared for? What do you mean Mr. Faxon? Has he done right by his only sister to simply give me the income of his estate? Don’t you see I can’t sell or dispose of a single thing? Do you think that is just?” she asked.
“Well, you surely would not wish to dispose of this home would you?”
“Well, no, of course not, but I don’t like to feel myself bound so strictly.”
“Then I am sure your income from the estate will be a handsome one.”
“Yes I know, as an income, but it is not pleasant to feel that I cannot sell anything if I wish to, just because my brother happened to have a crazy idea in his brain that his drowned daughter would come from the dead some day and need it. I declare, I lose all patience when I think of it.” She paced angrily up and down the room as she said this; in her heart was no feeling of sorrow for the loss of her brother, but rather one of baffled ambition at having all his wealth kept from her immediate possession.
“I do not know, Mrs. Maynard, but what if I had a daughter disappear as mysteriously as Mabel has, I should feel as Mr. Miller did.”
“Oh, nonsense! As I said before, it is an absurd idea that after all these months she should ever come back. And even if he had felt so, why couldn’t he have contented himself with putting the time at five years, instead of twenty, that the estate is to be held for her? I shall not want money then as I do now. Why, Mr. Faxon, do you realize that I shall be an old woman at the end of twenty years?”