"Thank you," said he, almost in his natural tone, "I see that I am—or, at least, that I was,—a little beside myself. Still, I must leave Bergan Hall. I cannot think it right or expedient to remain here longer. But when I have put myself in the way of living independently, and cleared up my reputation, I will do what I can, without loss of self-respect, to establish friendly relations with my uncle. Indeed, I do not mean to be foolishly resentful, nor unbecomingly exacting."
"May I ask what you are going to do?" inquired Rue, after a few moments of thought.
"Certainly. I am going to carry out my original plan, and my mother's express wish, by opening a law-office in Berganton, and doing my best to win fame and fortune in the place which my ancestors founded; and in which," he added, with a smile, "their shades may reasonably be expected to watch my career with especial interest, and also to do me a good turn, whenever they have it in their power."
"Well," said Rue, after a long pause, "perhaps you are right. I think I begin to see that it may be quite as well for you to go away, for a time. You shall not lose anything by it; I will take care of that. I have more influence with your uncle than you would think. And I promise you,—remember, I promise you," she repeated, with marked emphasis,—"whatever comes, you shall have Bergan Hall."
The young man shook his head. "I think not," said he. "Indeed, I have ceased to wish for it; I do not see any place for it in the life which I now contemplate. It was but a pleasant day-dream, at best; and it is over."
"It may be over for you," rejoined Rue, quietly, "but it is not over for me. And my dreams are apt to come true. I may not live to see it,—indeed, it is borne in upon me that I shall not,—but the Hall will surely be yours, one day."
Bergan again shook his head. Without making any pretensions to the prophetic gift, he thought he could foretell, better than old Rue, the effect of the course which he had marked out for himself, upon his uncle. But the blind woman could not see the gesture; and he forebore to put his doubt into words,—unless its subtle prompting was to be detected in his next apparently irrelevant sentence:—
"I shall think it one of my first duties to go and see my uncle Godfrey."
"I am glad to hear it," replied Rue, placidly. "He is a wise, just man; and no doubt he will give you good advice about setting up your profession. I have been hoping that, through you, this long family breach would be healed."
And here the conversation strayed off amid thick-growing family topics, where it is unnecessary to follow it.