Again the mournful music of his voice touched her heart, and she felt her tears rising as she answered in a low, hesitating tone: 

“It was not death, Mr. Murray, it was merely syncope and this is a healthful reaction from disease.”

“No, it will not last.  It is but an ignis fatuus that will decoy to deeper gloom and darker morasses.  I have swept and garnished, and the seven other devils will dwell with me forever!  My child, I have tempted you, and you stood firm.  Forgive my suspicions.  Twenty years hence, if you are so luckless as to live that long, you will not wonder that I doubted you, but that my doubt proved unjust.  This little vault contains no skeleton, no state secrets; only a picture and a few jewels, my will, and the history of a wrecked, worthless, utterly ruined life.  Perhaps if you continue true, and make my mother happy.  I may put all in your hands some day, when I die; and then you will not wonder at my aimless, hopeless, useless life.  One thing I wish to say now, if at any time you need assistance of any kind—­if you are troubled—­come to me.  I am not quite so selfish as the world paints me, and even if I seem rude and harsh, do not fear to come to me.  You have conferred a favor on me, and I do not like to remain in anybody’s debt.  Make me repay you as soon as possible.”

“I am afraid, sir, we never can be friends.”

“Why not?”

“Because you have no confidence in me, and I would much sooner go for sympathy to one of your bronze monsters yonder on the doorsteps, than to you.  Neither of us likes the other, and consequently a sham cordiality would be intolerably irksome.  I shall not be here much longer; but while we are in the same house, I trust no bitter or unkind feelings will be entertained.  I thank you, sir, for your polite offer of assistance, but hope I shall soon be able to maintain myself without burdening your mother any longer.”

“How long have you burdened her?”

“Ever since that night when I was picked up lame and helpless, and placed in her kind hands.”

“I should like to know whether you really love my mother?”

“Next to the memory of my grandfather, I love her and Mr. Hammond; and I feel that my gratitude is beyond expression.  There, your mother is coming!  I hear the carriage.  Shall I tell her you are here?”

Without raising his face, he took the key of the door from his pocket, and held it toward her.  “No; I will meet her in her own room.”

Edna hastened to the library, and throwing herself into a chair, tried to collect her thoughts and reflect upon what had passed in the “Egyptian Museum.”