Fortunately Mr. Tresham's lawyer had insisted upon Mrs. Burrell giving Roland a list of the articles left in her charge and an acknowledgment of Roland's right to them. "Life is so queer and has so many queer turns," he said, "that nothing can be left to likelihoods. Mrs. Burrell is not likely to die, but she may do so; and then there may be a new Mrs. Burrell who may make trouble, and I can conceive of many other complications which would render nugatory the intentions of the late Mr. Tresham. The property must, therefore, be set behind the bulwark of the law." Elizabeth herself had acknowledged this danger, and she had done all that was required of her in order to keep the Tresham family treasures within the keeping of the Treshams. She was now confronted with her own acknowledgment and agreement, or at least with a copy of it, and she was well aware that it would be the greatest folly to deny the claim of Roland's wife. But the idea of robbing her beautiful home for Denasia was very bitter to her. She glanced around the room and imagined the precious cabinets and china, the curious carvings and fine paintings taken away, and then the alternative, the money she would have to pay to Denasia if she retained them, came with equal force and clearness to her intelligence. "Mrs. Tresham," she said in a conciliating voice, "these objects can be of no value to you." "Roland told me they were worth at least two thousand pounds, perhaps more. There is a picture of Turner's, which of----" "What do you know about Turner? And can you really entertain the thought of selling things so precious to our family?" "Roland wished you to buy them. If you do not value them sufficiently to do so, why should I keep them? In my father's cottage they would be absurd." "Your father's cottage? You are laughing at me!" "I am too sorrowful a woman to laugh. A few weeks ago, if I had had only one of these pictures I would have sold it for a mouthful of bread--for a little coal to warm myself; oh, my God! for medicine to save my child's life or to ease his passage to the grave." "I had forgotten the child. Where is he?" "By his father's side." "That is well and best, doubtless." "It is not well and best. What do you know? You have never been a mother. God never gave you such sorrowful grace." "We will return to the list, if you please. What do you propose to do?" "I have spoken to a man in Baker Street who deals in such things. If you wish to buy them and will pay their fair value I will sell them to you, because Roland desired you to have them. If you do not wish to buy them or will not pay a fair price I will remove them to Baker Street. There are others who will know their value." "I advanced Roland a great deal of money." "You gave him it. You demanded and accepted his thanks. The sums all told would not pay for the use of the property."