Aylmer had again tried to induce Mr. Torrance to make a will, but in vain, and he desisted from any further effort, at Kathleen's request.
She had been resolute in one respect. The income of the little property which could not be alienated had been invested year by year, to accumulate in trust for her child.
"Nothing shall induce me to touch a penny of this," said Kathleen. "This shall be secured to my boy. It may be his only heritage."
In seven years and a half, the annual three hundred and fifty pounds, with interest added, made no unimportant sum, and Kathleen rejoiced that it had not been disturbed.
One evening Mr. Torrance alluded to this "separate fortune," as he called it, and said—
"If I want to borrow a few hundreds, Kitty, you will let me have them."
"Surely you have no need to borrow, least of all from me," she said.
"Why, is it not natural that married people should mutually accommodate each other?"
Kathleen was silent, but thought was busy. If her husband was in want of money, what had become of the great sum placed in his hands together with the income from the estate? She had kept household expenses within proper bounds, and since their first two years of married life there had been nothing to account for any present scarcity of money.
"Do you mean that you will not lend me a few hundreds?" said Mr. Torrance.