him on the possible return of Mrs. Butt, of which she
had heard from the natty servant.

"Good-bye, uncle," she said.

"Good-bye."

She had got as far as the door, when he whispered, brokenly: "Lass--"

Helen turned quickly towards him.

CHAPTER XVII

DESCENDANTS OF MACHIAVELLI

Yes, she turned towards him with a rapid, impulsive movement, which
expressed partly her sympathy for her old uncle, and partly a feeling of
joy caused by the sudden hope that he had decided to give way and buy
Wilbraham Hall after all.

And the fact was that, in his secret soul, he had decided to give way;
he had decided that Helen, together with Helen's cooking, was worth to
him the price of Wilbraham Hall. But when he saw her brusque, eager
gesture, he began to reflect. His was a wily and profound nature; he
reckoned that he could read the human soul, and he said to himself:

"The wench isn't so set on leaving me as I thought she was."

And instead of saying to her: "Helen, lass, if you'll stop you shall
have your Wilbraham Hall," in tones of affecting, sad surrender, he
said:

"I'm sorry to lose thee, my girl; but what must be must."

And when he caught the look in her eyes, he was more than ever
convinced that he would be able to keep Helen without satisfying her
extremely expensive whim.

Helen, for her part, began to suspect that if she played the fish with
sufficient skill, she would capture it. Thus they both, in a manner of
speaking, got out their landing-nets.

"I don't say," James Ollerenshaw proceeded, in accents calculated to
prove to her that he had just as great a horror of sentimentality as she
had--"I don't say as you wouldn't make a rare good mistress o' Wilbraham
Hall. I don't say as I wouldn't like to see you in it. But when a man
reaches my age, he's fixed in his habits like. And, what's more,
supposing I _am_ saving a bit o' money, who am I saving it for, if it
isn't for you and your mother? You said as much yourself. I might pop
off any minute--"

"Uncle!" Helen protested.

"Ay, any minute!" he repeated, firmly. "I've known stronger men nor me
pop off as quick as a bottle o' ginger-beer near the fire." Here he
gazed at her, and his gaze said: "If I popped off here and now, wouldn't
you feel ashamed o' yerself for being so hard on your old uncle?"

"You'll live many and many a year yet," Helen smiled.

He shook his head pessimistically. "I've set my heart," he continued,
"on leaving a certa