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By Root 1480 0

to tell no one as to Mary’s fortune till after he had fortified himself with legal warranty, he made one exception. He thought it rational that he should explain to Lady Scatcherd who was now the heir under her husband’s will; and he was the more inclined to do so, from feeling that the news would probably be gratifying to her. With this view, he had once or twice endeavoured to induce her to talk about the property, but she had been unwilling to do so. She seemed to dislike all allusions to it, and it was not till she had incidentally mentioned the fact that she would have to look for a home, that he was able to fix her to the subject. This was on the evening before the funeral; on the afternoon of which day he intended to proceed to London.

‘It may probably be arranged that you may continue to live here,’ said the doctor.

‘I don’t wish it at all,’ said she, rather sharply. ‘I don’t wish to have any arrangements made. I would not be indebted to any of them for anything. Oh, dear! if money could make it all right, I should have enough of that.’

‘Indebted to whom, Lady Scatcherd? Who do you think will be the owner of Boxall Hill?’

‘Indeed, then, Dr Thorne, I don’t much care: unless it be yourself, it won’t be any friend of mine, or anyone I shall care to make a friend of. It isn’t so easy for an old woman like me to make new friends.’

‘Well, it certainly won’t belong to me.’

‘I wish it did, with all my heart. But even then, I would not live here. I have had too many troubles here to wish to see more.’

‘That shall be just as you like, Lady Scatcherd; but you will be surprised to hear that the place will – at least I think it will – belong to a friend of yours: to one to whom you have been very kind.’

‘And who is he, doctor? Won’t it go to some of those Americans? I am sure I never did anything kind to them; though, indeed, I did love poor Mary Scatcherd. But that’s years upon years ago, and she is dead and gone now. Well, I begrudge nothing to Mary’s children. As I have none of my own, it is right they should have the money. It has not made me happy; I hope it may do so to them.’

‘The property will, I think, go to Mary Scatcherd’s eldest child. It is she whom you have known as Mary Thorne.’

‘Doctor!’ And then Lady Scatcherd, as she made the exclamation, put both her hands down to hold her chair, as though she feared the weight of her surprise would topple her off her seat.

‘Yes; Mary Thorne – my Mary – to whom you have been so good, who loves you so well; she, I believe, will be Sir Roger’s heiress. And it was so that Sir Roger intended on his deathbed, in the event of poor Louis’s life being cut short. If this be so, will you be ashamed to stay here as the guest of Mary Thorne? She has not been ashamed to be your guest.’

But Lady Scatcherd was now too much interested in the general tenor of the news which she had heard to care much about the house which she was to inhabit in future. Mary Thorne, the heiress of Boxall Hill! Mary Thorne, the still living child of that poor creature who had so nearly died when they were all afflicted with their early grief! Well; there was consolation, there was comfort in this. There were but three people left in the world that she could love: her foster-child, Frank Gresham – Mary Thorne, and the doctor. If the money went to Mary, it would of course go to Frank, for she now knew that they loved each other; and if it went to them, would not the doctor have his share also; such share as he might want? Could she have governed the matter, she would have given it all to Frank; and now it would be as well bestowed.

Yes; there was consolation in this. They both sat up more than half the night talking over it, and giving and receiving explanations. If only the council of lawyers would not be adverse! That was now the point of suspense.

The doctor, before he left her, bade her hold her peace, and say nothing of Mary’s fortune to anyone till her rights had been absolutely acknowledged. ‘It will be nothing not to have it,’ said the doctor; ‘but it would be very bad to hear that it was hers,