'There is no one like Michael!' was Audrey's inward comment as she put down the letter.
How simply he had told her his intentions with regard to Kester! as though his generosity were a matter of course. How few men of Michael's age would have cared to saddle themselves with such a responsibility! for one, too, who was not their own kith and kin.
'It will cost him at least two hundred a year,' she thought; 'no wonder my poor Cyril found it difficult to accept such an offer. He would take nothing from Michael for himself, but he could hardly refuse for Kester. Michael has virtually adopted him, just as I should like to adopt Mollie. I suppose he thinks he will have no son of his own, and there is all that money——'
And she sighed a little as she thought of Michael's loneliness.
But if she had only known it, Michael's real generosity was shown in those lines he had written at the end of his letter. His munificence to Kester cost him far less than those few words which he wrote so ungrudgingly of his rival; but he knew how they would gladden her heart. The old beautiful smile would come to her lips, he thought, as she read them.
'They will please her more than all the rest of the letter,' he said to himself.
Two or three evenings after this letter had reached her, Audrey went into her father's study, as usual, to bid him good-night; but when he had kissed her with that special tenderness which he had shown to her ever since her trouble, she looked at him very seriously.
'Father,' she said, as he kept his arm still round her, 'I wish you to know that I am going to the Gray Cottage to-morrow to bid Mrs. Blake good-bye.'
Then Dr. Ross's arm dropped from her waist, and she saw at once that the news was not palatable to him.
'Is that necessary, Audrey?'