Katie felt at once by the tone of his voice that her suspicions were groundless, and stopped him by falling crying upon his neck, “Oh, forgive me, Frank, forgive me, for doubting you. I was wicked and wrong, Frank. Oh, my husband, how could I doubt you? Don't say a word more, Frank, please, please don't; I never should have dreamed it, only I have heard that men look at these things in a different way to what we do. Say you are not angry, Frank, say you quite forgive me for doubting you.” “You silly little darling,” Frank said, putting her back on her old place upon his knee, “there is nothing to forgive. It was natural enough for you to suppose that my crazy uncle must have had some reason for writing such an epistle as that. But it is not so, pet. I give you my word and honour that I have got into no scrape whatever, and that I have not the remotest conception in the world what he means or alludes to, except that absurd Alice Heathcote business. Are you quite satisfied?” “Yes, yes, Frank, only I am so ashamed of myself for having doubted you.” Katie required a good deal of petting before she could be reconciled to herself, and it was some time before the conversation again came round to the subject of the letter. “It is really a very serious business, Katie. I never built upon Uncle Bradshaw's money, although if I had been asked, I should certainly have answered that I expected him to leave me, at any rate, half. Well, four or five thousand a year is no trifle, Katie. We have enough to live upon, darling, but for the sake of our heirs we must regret it.” “If you talk nonsense, Frank, I shan't listen to you.” “I did not know I was talking nonsense, Katie; a man surely may talk of his heirs. Well then, for their sake one naturally does not care suddenly to lose all chance of a fine fortune simply because one's uncle has gone out of his mind.” “And you can't think, Frank, that he has made a mistake about anything else? I mean that it may be something else besides this Miss Heathcote, whom I cannot but think you must have behaved shamefully to, sir; yes, you may shake your head and say no indeed, but I am sure you must have done.” “No, Katie, I cannot think of anything else; and you need not be jealous of Alice Heathcote, I never cared for her, that is not to love her, for a moment. The whole thing was exactly as I told you, a mere crotchet of Captain Bradshaw's.” “Well, Frank, if he is not really out of his mind, he must be a very wicked old man to write such a letter to you.” “No, Katie, he certainly is not a wicked old man at all. He is a passionate old gentleman if you like, but he is as good-hearted a man as you will meet with in all the course of your life. I tell you what, Katie, this afternoon I will put on my hat and go down to my club, I am sure to meet someone there who will tell me whether it is publicly known that the poor old man has gone out of his mind. I can't go to his house to call after such a letter as that.”