“It is too late,” she said. “Nothing can solace me for what I have lost; but it will enable me to make provision for my dear Walter and Florence.” Her eyes closed; her head sank on her breast; she put out her hand towards the window, as if to clutch at something that was not there.
Mr. Boughton saw it, and understood.
“I cannot repay you for your kindness and consideration,” she went on presently. “Even when I have discharged my pecuniary obligation I shall still remain your debtor. But there are some things I should like to do. I wish Mrs. North to have a sum of money; I will tell her my wishes in regard to it.”
“Perhaps I had better return in a day or two. You must forgive me for saying, my dear madam, that, with the vast sum that is now at your disposal, you ought to make a will immediately. I could take instructions now if you like.”
“Instructions?” she repeated, with a puzzled air; “I will give them all to Mrs. North, and you can take them from her. You will not think me inhospitable if I ask you to leave me now, Mr. Boughton? I am very tired. Tell me, did they send for you when William Rammage died?”
“They telegraphed for me immediately, and when I got to the office I found your letter waiting for me—the one you wrote before you left London, giving me your address here.” She did not hear him; her eyes had closed again, and her chin rested down on the lavender ribbons; the sunshine came in and lighted up her face, and that which Mr. Boughton saw written on it was unmistakable.
“You are quite right, my dear madam,” he said to Mrs. North, as he sat partaking of the refreshment Aunt Anne had devised for him; “it has come too late.”
He looked at his watch when he had finished. “I have only a quarter of an hour to stay,” he said. “Before I go, would you give me some explanation of the extraordinary statements you made on my arrival?”
“You shall have it,” Mrs. North answered eagerly; “but wait one moment, till I have taken this egg and wine to Mrs. Baines and seen that the maid is with her.”
“That’s a remarkably handsome girl,” the lawyer thought, when she had disappeared; “I wonder where I have heard her name before, and who she is?” But this speculation was entirely forgotten when he heard the story of his nephew’s doings of the last few months. “God bless my soul!” he exclaimed; “why, he might be sent to prison with hard labour—and serve him right, the scoundrel.”