ident that the estate would be Tristrem's,
and thus assured, it seemed unnecessary to him to touch on a matter to
which Tristrem had not alluded, and which was presumably distasteful to
him. But when he learned what Tristrem had done, he looked upon the
matter in a different light, and attacked him very aggressively the next
day.

"I can understand perfectly," he said, "that you should decline to hold
property on what you seem to regard as a legal quibble. But I should be
very much gratified to learn in what your judgment is superior to that
of the Legislature, and why you should refuse that to which you had as
clear and indefeasible a claim as I have to this fob on my waistcoat. I
should be really very much gratified to learn----"

Tristrem looked at his grandfather very much as though he had been asked
to open a wound. But he answered nothing. He got the letters and placed
them in the old gentleman's hand.

Mr. Van Norden glanced at one, and then turned to Tristrem. It was
evident that he was in the currents of conflicting and retroacting
emotions. He made as though he would speak, yet for the time being the
intensity of his feelings prevented him. He took up the letters again
and eyed them, shaking his head as he did so with the anger of one
enraged at the irreparable, and conscious of the futility of the wrath.

In the lives of most men and women there are moments in which they are
pregnant with words. The necessity of speech is so great that until the
parturition is accomplished they experience the throes of suffocation.
If no listener be at hand, there are at least the walls. Mr. Van Norden
was standing near to Tristrem, but that he might be the better assured
of his attention, he caught him by the arm, and addressed him in abrupt,
disjointed sentences, in a torrent of phrases, unconnected, as though
others than himself beat their vocables from his mouth. His words were
so tumultuous that they assailed the gates of speech, as spectators at
the sight of flame crowd the exits of a hall, and issue, some as were
they hurled from catapults, others, maimed, in disarray.

He was possessed of anger, and as sometimes happens off the stage, his
anger was splendid and glorious to behold. And Tristrem, with the thirst
of one who has drunk of thirst itself, caught the cascade of words, and
found in them the waters and fountains of life.

"These letters----But how is it possible? God in Heaven----! But can't
you see?--the