‘I do not fully understand,’ said Clara.  ’It had been plain for a long time that something was on Uncle Oliver’s mind; he was so restless all the winter at Paris, and at last arranged our coming home very suddenly.  I think he was disappointed in London, for he went out at once, and came back very much discomposed.  He even scolded me for not having married; and when I tried to coax him out of it, he said it was for my good, and he wanted to see after his business in Peru.  I put him in mind how dear granny had begged him to stay at home; but he told me I knew nothing about it, and that he would have gone long ago if I had not been an obstinate girl, and had known how to play my cards.  I said something about going home, but that made him more furious than ever.  But, after all, it is not fair to tell all about the last few months.  Dr. Hastings says his attack had been a long time coming on, and he must have been previously harassed.’

‘And you had to bear with it all?’

’He was never unkind.  Oh, no; but it was sad to see him so miserable, and not to know why—­and so uncertain, too!  Sometimes he would insist on giving grand parties, and yet he was angry with the expense of my poor little pony-carriage.  I don’t think he always quite knew what he was about; and while he hoped to pull through, I suppose he was afraid of any one guessing at his embarrassments.  On this day fortnight he was reading his letters at breakfast—­I saw there was something amiss, and said something stupid about the hot rolls, because he could not bear me to notice.  I think that roused him, for he got up, but he tottered, and by the time I came to him he seemed to slip down into my arms, quite insensible.  The surgeon in the village bled him, and he came to himself, but could not speak.  I had almost sent for you then, but Dr. Hastings came, and thought he would recover, and I did not venture.  Indeed, Jane forbade me; she is a sort of lioness and her whelps.  Well, the next day came Mr. Morrison, who is the Mr. Richardson to this concern, and by-and-by he asked to see me.  He kept the doctor in the next room.  I believe he thought I should faint or make some such performance, for he began about his painful duty, and frightened me lest my poor uncle should be worse, only he was not the right man to tell me.  So at last it came out that we were ruined, and I was not an heiress at all, at all!  If it had not been for poor Uncle Oliver, I should have cried ‘Hurrah!’ I did nearly laugh to hear him complimenting my firmness.  I believe the history is this:—­Hearing that this place was for sale, brought Uncle Oliver home before his affairs could well do without him.  He paid half the price, and promised to pay the rest in three years, giving security on the mines and the other property in Peru; but somehow the remittances have never come properly, and he trusted to some great success with the Equatorial Company to set things straight, but it seems that it has totally failed, and that was the news that overthrew him.  Then the creditors, who had been put off with hopes, all came down on him together, and there seems to be nothing to be done but to give up everything to them.  Poor Uncle Oliver!—­I sat watching him that evening, and thinking how Louis would say the sea had swept away his whole sand castle with one wave.’