had better wait until you came.'

'Your father expected me to come, then?'

'Yes, to the last he hoped you would. He had something to say to you, he
said. And the last morning, when his mind began to wander, he talked of
you a great deal.'

These details Gladys gave in a dry, even voice, which betrayed a keen
effort. She spoke almost as if she had set herself a task.

'I came as soon as I could. The parson wrote urgently, but I know how
parsons draw the long bow, so I didn't hurry. Business must be attended
to, whatever happens. You don't know what it was your father wished to
say? He never asked you to write it, or anything?'

'No, but in his wandering he talked of money a great deal, and he seemed
to think,' she added, with a slight hesitation, 'that you had taken some
from him. Of course it was only his fancy. Sick people often think such
things.'

'He could not possibly in his senses have thought so, for I never had
any money, or he either. We could not rob each other when there was
nothing to rob,' said the old man, but he avoided slightly his niece's
clear gaze. 'Well, Mary, I am willing to do what I can for you, as you
are my brother's only child, so you had better prepare to return to
Scotland with me.'

Gladys tried to veil her shrinking from the prospect, but her sweet face
grew even graver as she listened.