even if I could
remember them. He said much about myself, regretting that the feeling
between us had not been more kindly. 'But my heart,' he said, 'has
ever been kinder than my words.' Then I got up from where I was
seated, and going over to him, I told him that we would remain here."
"And what did he say?"
"I don't know what he said. I know that I was crying, and that he
kissed me. It was the first time in his life. I know that he was
pleased,--beyond measure pleased. After a while he became animated,
and talked of doing ever so many things. He promised that very
painting of which you spoke."
"Ah, yes, I knew it; and Hopkins will be here with the peas before
dinner-time to-morrow, and Dingles with his shoulders smothered with
rabbits. And then Mrs Boyce! Mamma, he didn't think of Mrs Boyce;
or, in very charity of heart, he would still have maintained his
sadness."
"Then he did not think of her; for when I left him he was not at all
sad. But I haven't told you half yet."
"Dear me, mamma; was there more than that?"
"And I've told it all wrong; for what I've got to tell now was said
before a word was spoken about the house. He brought it in just after
what he said about Bernard. He said that Bernard would, of course, be
his heir."
"Of course he will."
"And that he should think it wrong to encumber the property with any
charges for you girls."
"Mamma, did any one ever--"
"Stop, Lily, stop; and make your heart kinder towards him if you
can."
"It is kind; only I hate to be told that I'm not to have a lot of
money, as though I had ever shown a desire for it. I have never
envied Bernard his man-servant, or his maid-servant, or his ox, or
his ass, or anything that is his. To tell the truth I didn't even
wish it to be Bell's, because I knew well that there was somebody she
would like a great deal better than ever she could like Bernard."
"I shall never get to the end of my story."
"Yes, you will, mamma, if you persevere."
"The long and the short of it is this, that he has given Bell three
thousand pounds, and has given you three thousand also."
"But why me, mamma?" said Lily, and the colour of her cheeks became
red as she spoke. There should if possible be nothing more said about
John Eames; but whatever might or might not be the necessity of
speaking, at any rate, let there be no mistake. "But why me, mamma?"
"Because, as he explained to me, he thinks it right to do the same
by each of yo
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