care a pin, one
way or the other. You meant nothing to me, and I am afraid that George
meant but little more. I resented the fact that my mother had to give you
a large sum of money. It was money that I could have used very nicely
myself. Now that I look back upon it, I am frank to confess that therein
lies the real secret of my animosity toward you. It didn't in the least
matter to me whether George married you, or my mother's chambermaid, or
the finest lady in the land. You will be surprised to learn that I looked
upon myself as the one who was being very badly treated at the time. To
put it rather plainly, I thought you were getting from my mother a great
deal more than you were worth. Forgive me for speaking so frankly, but it
is best that you should understand how I felt in those days so that you
may credit me with sincerity now. I shall never admit that you deserved
the thirty thousand dollars you took from us, but I now say that you were
entitled to keep the man you loved and married. I don't care how unworthy
you may have seemed to us, you should not have been compelled to take
money for something you could not sell--the enduring love of that sick boy
in there. My mother couldn't buy it, and you couldn't sell it. You have it
still and always will have it, Lutie. I am glad that you have come to take
care of him. You spoke of him as 'my husband' a moment ago. You were
right. He _is_ your husband. I, for one, shall not oppose you in anything
you may see fit to do. We do not appear to have been capable of preserving
what you gave back to us--for better or for worse, if you please,--so I
fancy we'd better turn the job over to you. I hope it isn't too late. I
love my brother now. I suppose I have always loved him but I overlooked
the fact in concentrating my affection on some one else,--and that some one
was myself. You see I do not spare myself, Lutie, but you are not to
assume that I am ashamed of the Anne Tresslyn who was. I petted and
coddled her for years and I alone made her what she was, so I shall not
turn against her now. There is a great deal of the old Anne in me still
and I coddle her as much as ever. But I've found out something new about
her that I never suspected before, and it is this new quality that speaks
to you now. I ask you to try to forget, Lutie."

Throughout this long speech Lutie's eyes never left those of the tall
young woman in black.

"Why do you call me Lutie?" she asked.

"Because it i