‘Does he know it?  Have any steps been taken?’

’Mr. Morrison showed me what my poor uncle had done.  He had really executed a deed giving me the whole estate; he would have borne all the disgrace and persecution himself—­for you know it would have been a most horrible scrape, as he had given them security on property that was not really secure.  Mr. Morrison said the deed would hold, and that he would bring me counsel’s opinion if I liked.  But, oh, Jem!  I was so thankful that my birthday was over, and I was my own woman!  I made him draw up a paper, and I signed it, undertaking that they shall have quiet possession provided they will come to an amicable settlement, and not torment my uncle.’

‘I hope he is a man of sense, who will make the best terms?’

’You may see to that now.  I’m sure he is a man of compliments.  He tells me grand things about my disinterestedness, and the creditors and they have promised to let us stay unmolested as long as I please, which will be only till my uncle can move, for I must get rid of all these servants and paraphernalia, and in the meantime they are concocting the amicable adjustment, and Mr. Morrison said he should try to stipulate for a maintenance for my uncle, but he was not sure of it, without giving up what may yet come from Peru.  Jane’s annuity is safe—­that is a comfort!  What work I had to make her believe it! and now she wants us all to live upon it.’

’That was a rare and beautiful power by which my grandmother infused such faithful love into all her dependants.  But now for the person really to be pitied.’

’It was only three days ago that it was safe to speak of it, but then he had grown so anxious that the doctors said I must begin.  So I begged and prayed him to forgive me, and then told what I had done, and he was not so very angry.  He only called me a silly child, and said I did not know what I had done in those few days that I had been left to myself.  So I told him dear granny had had it, and that was all that signified, and that I never had any right here.  Then,’ said Clara, tearfully, ’he began to cry like a child, and said at least she had died in her own home, and he called me Henry’s child:  and then Jane came and turned me out, and wont let me go near him unless I promise to be good and say nothing.  But I must soon; for however she pats him, and says, ‘Don’t, Master Oliver,’ I see his mind runs on nothing else, and the doctor says he may soon hear the plans, and be moved.’

‘Can you venture to tell him that I am here?’

Before Clara could answer, Jane opened the door—­’Miss Clara, your uncle;’ and there she stopped, at the unexpected sight of the brother and sister still hand in hand.  ‘Here, Jane, do you see him?’ cried Clara; and James came forward with outstretched hand, but he was not graciously received.

‘Now, Master James, you ain’t coming here to worrit your poor uncle?’