‘I did not know that,’ he said. ‘Perhaps I am careless about these things, but I have always thought that my father left money for me.’ ‘I thought so too, until recently,’ replied Miss Pepperdine. ‘Your father thought that he did, too, and he made Simpson executor and trustee. But the money was badly invested. It was in a building society in Rome, and it was all lost. There was never a penny piece from it, from the time of your father’s death to this.’ Lucian listened in silence. ‘Then,’ he said, after a time, ‘my uncle was responsible for everything for me? I suppose he paid Mr. Chilverstone, and bought my clothes, and gave me pocket-money, and so on?’ ‘Every penny,’ replied his aunt. ‘Simpson was always a generous man.’ ‘And my three years at Oxford?’ he said inquiringly. ‘Ah!’ replied Miss Pepperdine, ‘that’s another matter. Well--I don’t suppose it matters now that you should know, though Simpson wouldn’t have told you, but I think you ought to know. That was Lord Simonstower--the old lord. He paid every penny.’ Lucian uttered a sharp exclamation. He rose from his chair and took a step or two about the room. Miss Pepperdine continued to knit with undiminished vigour. ‘So it would seem,’ he said presently, ‘that I lived and was educated on charity?’ ‘That is how most people would put it,’ she answered, ‘though, to do them justice, I don’t think either Lord Simonstower or Simpson Pepperdine would have called it that. They thought you a promising youth and they put money into you. That’s why I want you to feel that Simpson was only getting back a little of his own in the money that you lent him, though I know he would have paid it back to the day, according to his promise, if he’d been able. But I’m afraid that he would not have been able, and I think his money affairs have worked upon him.’ ‘I wish I had known,’ said Lucian. ‘He should have had no anxiety on my account.’ He continued to pace the floor; Miss Pepperdine’s needles clicked an accompaniment to his advancing and retreating steps. ‘I thought it best,’ she observed presently, ‘that you should know all these things--they will explain a good deal.’ ‘Yes,’ he answered, ‘it is best. I should know. But I wish I had known long ago. After all, a man should not be placed in a false position even by his dearest friends. I ought to have been told the truth.’ Miss Pepperdine’s needles clicked viciously. ‘So I always felt--after I knew, and that is but recently,’ she answered. ‘But, as I have said to you before, Simpson Pepperdine is a soft-hearted man.’ ‘He has been a kind-hearted man,’ said Lucian. He was thinking, as he walked about the room, glancing at the well-remembered objects, that the money which he had wasted in luxuries that he could well have done without would have relieved Mr. Pepperdine of anxiety and trouble. And yet he had never known, never guessed, that the kindly-hearted farmer had anything to distress him.