“You are your father’s son,” said Uncle Chad, ambiguously.  “But what I wish to impress upon you is, that neither of you comes before the other:  you come together.”  He paused again, and from this time on never removed his eyes from his nephew’s face, but watched him hawk-like.  “You will understand there is a great deal of money—­enough money to found a great American family.  Why shouldn’t that family be the Champneyses?  Why shouldn’t the Champneyses be restored to their old place, put where they rightfully belong?  And who and what should bring this about, except you, and Milly’s niece, and my money!”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand,” said Peter, and looked as bewildered as he felt.  He wasn’t a quick thinker.  “What is it you wish me to do?”

Still holding his eyes, “I want you to marry Milly’s niece,” said Chadwick Champneys. “That’s my price.”

“Marry?  I?  Oh, but, Uncle Chad!  Why, I don’t even know the girl, nor she me!  I’ve never so much as heard of her until this minute!” cried Peter.

“What difference does that make?  Men and women never know each other until after they’re married anyhow,” said his uncle, sententiously.  “Peter, do you really wish to go abroad and study?  Very well, then:  marry Milly’s niece.  I’ll attend to everything else.”

“But why?  My good God! why?” Peter’s eyes popped.

“Nephew,” said his uncle, patiently, “you are the last Champneys; she is Milly’s niece—­my Milly’s niece.  And Milly is dead, and I am practically under sentence of death myself.  I have got to put my affairs in order.  I’d hardly learned I was a very rich man before I also learned my time was limited.  On high authority.  Heart, Nephew.  I may last for several years.  Or go out like a puff of wind, before morning.”

Peter was so genuinely shocked and distressed at this that his uncle smiled to himself.  The boy was a true Champneys.

“There is no error in the diagnosis, so I accept what I can’t help, and in the meantime arrange my affairs.  Now, Nephew Peter, business man or artist the Champneys name is in your keeping.  You are the head of the house, so to speak.  I supply the funds to refurnish the house, we’ll say, and I give you your opportunity to do what you want to do, to make your mark in your own way.  In exchange you accept the wife I provide for you.  When I meet Milly again, I want to tell her there’s somebody of her own blood bearing our name, taking the place of the child we never had, enjoying all the good things we missed, and enjoying them with a Champneys, as a Champneys.  If there are to be Champneys children, I want Milly’s niece to bear them.  I won’t divide my money between two separate houses; it must all go to Peter Champneys and his wife, that wife being Milly’s niece.”  His eyes began to glitter, his mouth hardened.  “It is little enough to ask!” he cried, raising his voice.  “I give you everything else.  I do not ask you to change your profession.  I make that profession possible by supplying the means to pursue it.  In payment you marry Milly’s niece.”