Gilmore?"
"Certainly, my love," I answered. "But remember what a large sum
it is. Would you like it all to go to Miss Halcombe?"
She hesitated; her colour came and went, and her hand stole back
again to the little album.
"Not all of it," she said. "There is some one else besides
Marian----"
She stopped; her colour heightened, and the fingers of the hand
that rested upon the album beat gently on the margin of the
drawing, as if her memory had set them going mechanically with the
remembrance of a favourite tune.
"You mean some other member of the family besides Miss Halcombe?"
I suggested, seeing her at a loss to proceed.
The heightening colour spread to her forehead and her neck, and
the nervous fingers suddenly clasped themselves fast round the
edge of the book.
"There is some one else," she said, not noticing my last words,
though she had evidently heard them; "there is some one else who
might like a little keepsake if--if I might leave it. There would
be no harm if I should die first----"
She paused again. The colour that had spread over her cheeks
suddenly, as suddenly left them. The hand on the album resigned
its hold, trembled a little, and moved the book away from her.
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