"Why"--her face was illumined by a smile--"he always had a stock of them in the house; it was a standing joke. He used to give a box to nearly every one who came, declaring that they were a simple, safe medicine for what he called 'common complaints.'"
Mr. Clifford bestowed on Mr. Hooper what might be described as a glare of triumph.
"So they are, Miss Lindsay; it is only ignorant people who doubt it. No one was in a better position to know than your father was, and he was their sole proprietor. If he left you all his property, then I am fortunate in being the first to tell you that, of my own knowledge, you are the owner of at least a million."
"A million! Mr. Clifford! Then--then----"
She had the locket still open, and was looking at the likeness which she had described as the portrait of some one she used to know; as she looked her sentence came to a premature end, and her face was dyed with blushes. Mr. Clifford went on, a little heatedly.
"You have been badly used, Miss Lindsay; monstrously used; and by those who should have made it their first aim to use you well."
Her radiant face contrasted oddly with his warmth.
"What does it matter? It has done me no harm. All the while I've felt that God was leading me through the darkness unto the light; and that's what He has done. So see how much I have to thank Him for."
The door was opened by Mr. Gibb.
"Two gentlemen and a lady to see Mr. Frank Clifford."