“I thank you, madam. To resume, about four years ago Judge Linderman became bankrupt through speculation in cotton. That, I believe, you already knew. What you did not know was that in meeting his responsibilities he was obliged to part with all his real estate holdings, Waynewood amongst them.” The Major paused, expectantly, but the only comment from his audience, if comment it might be called, was a quivering sigh of apprehension which sent the Major quickly on with his story. “Waynewood fell into the hands of a Mr. Gerald Potter, of New York, a broker, who――――” “A Northerner!” cried Miss India. “A Northerner, my dear lady,” granted the Major, avoiding the lady’s horrified countenance, “but, as I have been creditably informed, a thorough gentleman and a representative of one of the foremost New York families.” “A gentleman!” echoed Miss India, scornfully. “A Northern gentleman! And so I am to understand that for four years I and my niece have been subsisting on the charity of a Northerner! Is that what you have come to inform me, Major Cass?” “The former arrangement was allowed to continue,” answered the Major, evenly, “being quite satisfactory to the new owner of the property. I regret, if you will pardon me, the use of the word charity, Miss India.” “You may regret it to your soul’s content, Major Cass,” replied Miss India, with acerbity. “The fact remains――the horrible, dishonoring fact! I consider your course almost――and I had never thought to use the word to you, sir――insulting!” “It is indeed a harsh word, madam,” replied the Major, gently and sorrowfully. “I realize that I have been ill-advised in keeping the truth from you, but in a calmer moment you will, I am certain, exonerate me from all intentions unworthy of my love for your dead brother and of my respect for you.” There was a suggestive tremble in the Major’s voice. Miss India dropped her eyes to the hands which were writhing agitatedly in her lap. Then: “You are right, my dear friend,” she said, softly. “I was too hasty. You will forgive me, will you not? But――this news of yours――is so unexpected, so astounding――――!” “Pray say no more!” interposed the Major, warmly. “I quite understand your agitation. And since the subject is unpleasant to you I will conclude my explanation as quickly as possible.” “There is more?” asked Miss India, anxiously. “A little. Mr. Potter kept the property some three years and then――I learned these facts but a few hours since――then became involved in financial troubles and――pardon me――committed suicide. He was found at his desk in his office something over a year ago with a bullet in his brain.” “Horrible!” ejaculated Miss India, but――and may I in turn be pardoned if I do the lady an injustice――there was something in her tone suggesting satisfaction with the manner in which a just Providence had dealt with a Northerner so presumptuous as to dishonor Waynewood with his ownership. “And now?” she asked.