realization that he had
come back to his home: old Mr. Raymond had seemed to be afraid of him,
and little Helen had cried with terror when he first clasped her in his
arms and kissed her with unguarded fondness.
"But that was not strange," observed my mother. "Intimate affection is,
after all, a habit. Now that you have a chance of having your little
girl always with you, she will very soon grow fond of you."
"Oh, but I have no claim to her. She must stay with Mr. Raymond as long
as he lives, I suppose. He loved Alice, but he worships Helen. I robbed
him of his child once almost against his will, and now that he is so old
a man I could not have the heart to do it again."
"But she is your own daughter!" cried my mother, half indignantly.
"But I made my mistake ten years ago. Just then I only cared for what
lay beneath a fresh grave at The Headlands: there seemed to be no
to-morrow for me--no time when I should get used to such sorrow and find
comfort in any one or anything that took Alice's place. I gave up Helen
then with absolute indifference: now such coldness seems enigmatical to
me."
"You ought to have her with you now."
"It could not be. I asked her this morning if she would come with me:
she burst into a passion of weeping, and declared she could not leave
her grandfather--that he would die without her; and I verily believe
that he would. Well! well! I have got along for ten years without
happiness. I have a career, while Mr. Raymond, millionaire though he is,
has nothing but Helen. If only my health does not altogether fail!"
"You are not ill, James?"
"The doctors tell me that I have three incurable diseases," returned Mr.
Floyd, laughing. "Then I took cold the moment I landed in this horrible
climate. I perfectly realize the truth of the Psalmist, who declares
that we are fearfully and wonderfully made. Physicians dote upon me: I
am an admirable field of research. Some people have the ill taste to die
without any preliminaries, but I shall not give occasion for any painful
surprise. Still, I only tell you this that you may make the most of me.
Let me hear about yourself, Mary. If you only knew how often I have
thought of you shut away here from the world in this wretched country
place, nothing near you not utterly foreign to your tastes and your
circles of thought!"
My mother's hand stole into mine, and she met my jealous glance and
smiled into my face. "Cousin James does not know what good ti
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