here is
no other shock, she may live on for months."
"I got your note last night in Washington," he returned. "It was
forwarded by mail from Applegate. Is the doctor still with her?"
"No, he has just gone. The rector is there now. She finds him a great
comfort."
"It was so sudden, Aunt Kesiah--she appeared well when I left her. What
caused the attack?"
"A talk she had had with Mr. Chamberlayne. It seems he thought it best
to prepare her for the fact that your Uncle Jonathan left a good deal
of his property--it amounts to an income of about ten thousand a year,
I believe, to Reuben Merryweather's granddaughter when she comes of age.
Of course it wasn't the money--Angela never gave that a thought--but
the admission that the girl was his illegitimate daughter that struck so
heavy a blow."
"But surely she must have suspected---"
"She has never suspected anything in her life. It is a part of her
sweetness, you know, that she never faces an unpleasant fact until it is
literally thrust on her notice. As long as your uncle was so devoted to
her and so considerate, she thought it a kind of disloyalty to inquire
as to the rest of his life. Once I remember, twenty years ago, when that
poor distraught creature came to me--I went straight to Angela and tried
to get her to use her influence with her uncle for the girl's sake. But
at the first hint, she locked herself in her room and refused to let
me come near her. Then it was that I had that terrible quarrel with Mr.
Gay, and he hardly spoke to me again as long as he lived. I believe,
though, he would have married Janet after my talk with him except for
Angela's illness, which was brought on by the shock of hearing him speak
of his intention." She sighed wonderingly, her anxious frown deepening
between her eyebrows. "They both seemed to think that in some way I was
to blame for the whole thing," she added, "and your uncle never forgave
me. It's the same way now. Mr. Chamberlayne spoke quite angrily to me
when he saw the effect of his interview. He appeared to think that I
ought to have prevented it."
"Could it have been kept from her, do you suppose?"
"That looked impossible, and of course, he broke it to her very gently.
He also, you know, has all his life had a sentiment about Angela, and
that, I think is why he never married. He told me once that she came
nearer than any woman he had ever seen to representing every man's
ideal."
"What I can't understand is wh
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