He is the only son of the
father's elder brother,--a being who was not known to have existed, that
is, who was supposed to have died when an infant. The father, my father,
was named for him, and my grandfather's will gave the largest share of
his fortune to his oldest son, Walter, whom he supposed to be my father,
but who was really Gerald Edmonson's father--if the fellow's proofs turn
out valid; they are having a thorough overhauling. My uncle does not
suffer; it is only we. I am sorry," he added, "that you are liable to be
in any way connected with loss, but at the worst it is so remotely that
it will never affect you. As for the other matter, the story,"--he
stopped with a movement of irritation, perhaps of some deeper
feeling,--"that must be borne as best it can, nothing of that falls upon
you, certainly. How the matter concerns a young lady at all I can't
imagine; so I fail to see what interest you can have in it, or what
right to move in it."
"You fail to see?" she said and gave him a smile full of sweetness. It
was not a coaxing smile, as if she begged him to reconsider his
opinions; it indorsed her own while placidly acquiescing in mutual
indifference. "Besides, do you know it was through me that the portrait
was found?" And she gave him an account of the discovery. He did not
think it necessary to interrupt her by saying that he had heard Edmonson
give it with great relish; it seemed a good opportunity to learn whether
he had been telling the truth.
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