"Your later actions will determine," Huntington said significantly.
Hamlen laughed nervously. "Fortunately there is no one left who would have any interest to contest.—As I told you, the bulk of my property is now in liquid form on deposit in New York, which simplifies your work as executor. That, you see, I want to give to Harvard."
He paused for a moment and became meditative. "How little I thought, six months ago, that I should become a benefactor of the college I then despised! That is your work, my friend,—making me realize my obligation.—Hold on a minute: I want to add to that document! My bequest shall go to Harvard as the 'William Montgomery Huntington Foundation, given by a friend, the income to be used to foster larger acquaintance and closer intimacy amongst the members of each freshman class.' Make a note of that, will you? There may be other changes."
Huntington made the necessary notations. It was best to humor him until his entire plan was outlined.
"Now, as to the estate in Bermuda," he went on. "You see what I've done with it,—but have I been quite delicate? This whole affair, and its outcome, will be humiliating to that sensitive little girl, and this might be a constant reminder. I would like her to have it; she would appreciate my trees and my flowers,—their fragrance might help her to forget my grave offense. Then again, perhaps Marian would see in this act an effort on my part to atone. I couldn't leave it to her, but do you think the girl would understand my motive?"
"Better than any one I know," Huntington replied.
Hamlen seemed to have reached the end of his elaboration, and was silent.
"How soon is this remarkable document to become operative?" Huntington demanded.
"Six months from to-day if you do not hear from me to the contrary, or upon receiving proof of death."
"All right," Huntington rejoined with apparent complacency. "I'll have it drafted in proper form and you can execute it to-morrow or next day. Now listen to me."