"I fancy that you bring me good news, major?" said Isabel, humoring his mood.
"News? Yes, I bring you news. The will is read—Judge Scroope's will."
"Who is the heir?"
"Peter Marmaduke Boyer, if he is alive. If he is dead, young Cabarreux."
Isabel made no reply for a moment: the work she held fell from her hand. She had not known of this chance. If David Cabarreux were the heir he would have every virtue in her father's eyes.
"I hope," she said at last, taking up her work again with a soft, complacent little laugh, "Mr. Cabarreux may live long to enjoy his good fortune."
"The fortune is not his," cried Sam excitedly. "You don't understand. Boyer is the heir—the Honorable Peter M. Boyer. A man who stood in the Senate of the United States, Miss Calhoun. A man who knows the world—who will know how to give his wife place and power, and who will have money now to buy both."
"I thought you said he was dead?"
"No. I—" He paused, grew suddenly pale, and went on hurriedly: "I know the man. He is alive."
"Then—It does not matter. It is all just as it was before," said Isabel with a proud smile. But, her thoughts going to her lover in his disappointment, she almost forgot that the major was there until he spoke again.