same. She did not hate him. That was impossible. She had never seen
her parents, so she had not known the love of either. They did not
belong in her life except through the sheerest imagination. Her
grandfather was the only real thing she had had in life, and she
had adored him. He had killed two people who were as nothing to her,
but he had taken the place of both. How could she bring herself to
hate this man who had destroyed what were no more than names to
her? Father,--Mother! Two words,--that was all. And for twenty
long years he had been paying,--Oh, how he must have paid!

She recalled his reason for taking her to England when she was less
than eight years old and leaving her there until she was twelve.
She remembered that he had said he wanted her to be like her
grandmother, to grow up among her people, to absorb from them all
that had made the first Alix so strong and fine and true. And then
he had come to take her from them, back to the land of her birth,
because, he said, he wanted her to be like her mother, the second
Alix,--an American woman. She recalled his bitter antipathy to
co-educational institutions and his unyielding resolve that she should
complete her schooling in a Sacred Heart Convent. She remembered
the commotion this decision created among his neighbours. In her
presence they had assailed him with the charge that he was turning
the girl over, body and soul, to the Catholic Church, and he had
uttered in reply the never to be forgotten words:

"If I never do anything worse than that for her, I'll be damned
well satisfied with my chance of getting into heaven as soon as
the rest of you."

When David's will was read, it was found that except for a few