“No, sir—at least, not now—but I hope—”
“What?”
“I hope that he may, one day, be the nearest and dearest relation to me that a woman can have.” I said those words boldly, because I was afraid of his otherwise taking some wrong view of the connection between Robert and me
“One day?” he repeated. “One day may be a long time hence.”
“We are neither of us well off, sir,” I said. “One day means the day when we are a little richer than we are now.”
“Is the young man educated? Can he produce testimonials to his character? Oblige me by writing his name and address down on the back of that card.”
When I had obeyed, in a handwriting which I am afraid did me no credit, he took out another card and gave it to me.
“I shall leave England to-morrow,” he said. “There is nothing now to keep me in my own country. If you are ever in any difficulty or distress (which I pray God you may never be), apply to my London agent, whose address you have there.”
He stopped, and looked at me attentively, then took my hand again.
“Where is she buried?” he said, suddenly, in a quick whisper, turning his head away.