"But you know all that," he said hastily, and went on. "My mother wrote
several times to her father and to her brother, first after her arrival
in Canada, then after the birth of her eldest child, and last of all
just before she died; but no answer ever came. After her death my
father, as she wished, wrote again, but until this morning he had heard
nothing from my grandfather for all these six-and-twenty years."

"You have heard, then, at last?"

"At last. This morning a letter came. It is a pitiful one to read. My
grandfather is, as you may suppose, a very old man; he is ill and alone,
and begins to repent, I think, of his harshness to my mother."

"But why is he alone? You said he had a son."

"Yes, but he is dead. He died six months ago, and left but one child, a
daughter, who is married and has no children."

"No children? and your grandfather is very rich?"

"I believe so."

"But you are his heir, then? Is that it?"

"He says so, or rather, he says my mother's eldest son is his heir. He
knows nothing of me individually."

"And you are the only one left? Ah, Maurice, if Alice even had been
alive!"