on that account blame you."

"If you did you would wrong me," Margaret answered, "for I never once
during all the years that we lived together spoke to Walter one word
about his money."

"I do not blame you," the brother rejoined; and then no more had been
said between them.

He had asked her even before the funeral to go up to Gower Street and
stay with them, but she had declined. Mrs Tom Mackenzie had not asked
her. Mrs Tom Mackenzie had hoped, then--had hoped and had inwardly
resolved--that half, at least, of the dying brother's money would
have come to her husband; and she had thought that if she once
encumbered herself with the old maid, the old maid might remain
longer than was desirable. "We should never get rid of her," she had
said to her eldest daughter, Mary Jane. "Never, mamma," Mary Jane had
replied. The mother and daughter had thought that they would be on
the whole safer in not pressing any such invitation. They had not
pressed it, and the old maid had remained in Arundel Street.

Before Tom left the house, after the reading of the will, he again
invited his sister to his own home. An hour or two had intervened
since he had told her of her position in the world, and he was
astonished at finding how composed and self-assured she was in the
tone and manner of her answer. "No, Tom, I think I had better not,"
she said. "Sarah will be somewhat disappointed."

"You need not mind that," said Tom.

"I think I had better not. I shall be very glad to see her if she
will come to me; and I hope you will come, Tom; but I think I will
remain here till I have made up my mind what to do." She remained in
Arundel Street for the next three months, and her brother saw her
frequently; but Mrs Tom Mackenzie never went to her, and she never
went to Mrs Tom Mackenzie. "Let it be even so," said Mrs Tom; "they
shall not say that I ran after her and her money. I hate such airs."
"So do I, mamma," said Mary Jane, tossing her head. "I always said
that she was a nasty old maid."

On that same day,--the day on which the will was read,--Mr Handcock
had also come to her. "I need not tell you," he had said, as he
pressed her hand, "how rejoiced I am--for your sake, Margaret."
Then she had returned the pressure, and had thanked him for his
friendship. "You know that I have been made executor to the will," he
continued. "He did this simply to save you from trouble. I need only
promise that I will do anything and everything that