"And I was to tell you both that I would not give you a single dollar out of all the pile. You are happier without, she says. And so do I," he added.
It was a strange betrothal, with tears in the eyes of both.
At that moment arrived the doctor, with Humphrey. The young man looked dark and lowering; his cheek was flushed. He glanced round the room, bowed low to Alice, recognized Molly by a cold inclination, Mr. Haveril by a nod, and Dick by a blank stare, which did not recognize even his existence—the frequent employment of this mode of salutation had made him greatly beloved by all outsiders.
"Ah," thought Dick, "if you knew what I've got in my pocket, you'd change that look."
"Mrs. Haveril," said Sir Robert, "I have brought you Sir Humphrey Woodroffe, at your request. I believe you have something to say to him."
"Molly dear, give Sir Humphrey a chair near me—so. I want to tell you, Sir Humphrey, of a very strange dream, if I may call it—a hallucination."
"You may, madam," said the doctor, for the young man sat down in silence.
"Which has, I fear, given your mother a great deal of annoyance. I am, unfortunately, too weak at present to call upon her, or to explain to her. Therefore I have ventured to ask you to be so very kind as to come here, so that I may send a message to Lady Woodroffe."
"I am here," said Sir Humphrey, ungraciously.
"I will not take up much of your time. I had an illness in America which touched my brain, I believe. I imagined that a child which I lost twenty-four years ago was still living. He was the son of my first husband, whose name was Woodroffe. He was also the father of Richard Woodroffe here. More than that, I fancied that one person was that child. That person was yourself. I fancied that you were the child. I had not lost it by death. I surrendered it to a lady by adoption."