“Write to Diana and Mary to-morrow,” I said, “and tell them to come home directly.  Diana said they would both consider themselves rich with a thousand pounds, so with five thousand they will do very well.”

“Tell me where I can get you a glass of water,” said St. John; “you must really make an effort to tranquillise your feelings.”

“Nonsense! and what sort of an effect will the bequest have on you?  Will it keep you in England, induce you to marry Miss Oliver, and settle down like an ordinary mortal?”

“You wander:  your head becomes confused.  I have been too abrupt in communicating the news; it has excited you beyond your strength.”

“Mr. Rivers! you quite put me out of patience:  I am rational enough; it is you who misunderstand, or rather who affect to misunderstand.”

“Perhaps, if you explained yourself a little more fully, I should comprehend better.”

“Explain!  What is there to explain?  You cannot fail to see that twenty thousand pounds, the sum in question, divided equally between the nephew and three nieces of our uncle, will give five thousand to each?  What I want is, that you should write to your sisters and tell them of the fortune that has accrued to them.”

“To you, you mean.”

“I have intimated my view of the case:  I am incapable of taking any other.  I am not brutally selfish, blindly unjust, or fiendishly ungrateful.  Besides, I am resolved I will have a home and connections.  I like Moor House, and I will live at Moor House; I like Diana and Mary, and I will attach myself for life to Diana and Mary.  It would please and benefit me to have five thousand pounds; it would torment and oppress me to have twenty thousand; which, moreover, could never be mine in justice, though it might in law.  I abandon to you, then, what is absolutely superfluous to me.  Let there be no opposition, and no discussion about it; let us agree amongst each other, and decide the point at once.”

“This is acting on first impulses; you must take days to consider such a matter, ere your word can be regarded as valid.”

“Oh! if all you doubt is my sincerity, I am easy:  you see the justice of the case?”

“I do see a certain justice; but it is contrary to all custom.  Besides, the entire fortune is your right:  my uncle gained it by his own efforts; he was free to leave it to whom he would:  he left it to you.  After all, justice permits you to keep it:  you may, with a clear conscience, consider it absolutely your own.”

“With me,” said I, “it is fully as much a matter of feeling as of conscience:  I must indulge my feelings; I so seldom have had an opportunity of doing so.  Were you to argue, object, and annoy me for a year, I could not forego the delicious pleasure of which I have caught a glimpse —­ that of repaying, in part, a mighty obligation, and winning to myself lifelong friends.”