"I do know what he meant better'n anybody living, and I know what he was going to do for the boy; and _I_ know, too, Mrs. Champney, who hindered him from having his will to do for the boy; and right's right, and now's your time to make good to his memory and intentions--to make good your husband's will for Champney Googe and save your husband's name from disgrace and more besides. _You_ know--but you never knew I did till now--what Louis Champney promised to do for the boy--and he told me more than once, Mrs. Champney, for he trusted _me_. He told me he was going to educate the boy and start him well in life, and that he wasn't going to end there; he told me he was going to leave him forty thousand dollars, Mrs. Champney--and he told me this not six weeks before he died; and the interest on forty thousand has equalled the principal by this time,--and you know best _why_ he hasn't had his own--I ain't blind and nobody else here in Flamsted. And now I've come to ask you, if you've got a woman's heart instead of a stone in your bosom, to make over that principal and interest to the Quarry Company and save the boy Louis Champney loved; he told me once what I knew, that his blood flowed in that child's veins--" "That's a lie--take that back!" she almost shrieked under her breath. She started to her feet, trembling in every limb, her face twitching painfully. Octavius was appalled at the effect of his words; but he dared not falter now--too much was at stake--although fearful of the effect of any further excitement upon the woman before him. He spoke appeasingly: "I can't take that back, for it's true, Mrs. Champney. You know as well as I do that far back his mother was a Champney." "Oh--I forgot." She dropped into her chair and drew a long breath as of exhaustion. "What were you saying?" She passed her hand slowly over her eyes, then put on her glasses. Octavius saw by that one movement that she had regained her usual control. He, too, felt relieved, and spoke more freely: "I said I want you to make good that eighty thousand dollars--" "Don't be a fool, Octavius Buzzby,"--she broke in upon him coldly, a world of scornful pity in her voice,--"you mean well, but you're a fool to think that at my time of life I'm going to impoverish myself and my estate for Champney Googe. You've had your pains for nothing. Let him take his punishment like any other man--he's no better, no worse; it's the fault of his bringing up; Aurora has only herself to thank." Octavius took a step forward. By a powerful effort he restrained himself from shaking his fist in her face. He spoke under his breath: "You leave Aurora's name out of this, Mrs. Champney, or I'll say things that you'll be sorry to hear." His anger was roused to white heat and he dared not trust himself to say more. She laughed out loud--the forced, mocking laugh of a miserable old age. "I knew from the first Aurora Googe was at the bottom of this--"