"It's my own, you know." And Margaret, as she said this, plucked up her courage, and looked her aunt full in the face. "Yes, it is your own, by law; but I don't suppose, my dear, that you are of that disposition or that character that you'd wish to set all the world at defiance, and make everybody belonging to you feel that you had disgraced yourself." "Disgraced myself by relieving my brother's family!" "Disgraced yourself by giving to that woman money that has come to you as your fortune has come. Think of it, where it came from!" "It came to me from my brother Walter." "And where did he get it? And who made it? And don't you know that your brother Tom had his share of it, and wasted it all? Did it not all come from the Balls? And yet you think so little of that, that you are going to let that woman rob you of it--rob you and my grandchildren; for that, I tell you, is the way in which the world will look at it. Perhaps you don't know it, but all that property was as good as given to John at one time. Who was it first took you by the hand when you were left all alone in Arundel Street? Oh, Margaret, don't go and be such an ungrateful, foolish creature!" Margaret waited for a moment, and then she answered-- "There's nobody so near to me as my own brother's children." "As to that, Margaret, there isn't much difference in nearness between your uncle and your nephews and nieces. But there's a right and a wrong in these things, and when money is concerned, people are not justified in indulging their fancies. Everything here has been told to you. You know how John is situated with his children. And after what there has been between you and him, and after what there still might be if you would have it so, I own that I am astonished--fairly astonished. Indeed, my dear, I can only look on it as simple weakness on your part. It was but the other day that you told me you had done all that you thought necessary by your brother in taking Susanna." "But that was when he was alive, and I thought he was doing well." "The fact is, you have been there and they've talked you over. It can't be that you love children that you never saw till the other day; and as for the woman, you always hated her." "Whether I love her or hate her has nothing to do with it." "Margaret, will you promise me this, that you will see Mr Slow and talk to him about it before you do anything?" "I must see Mr Slow before I can do anything; but whatever he says, I shall do it all the same." "Will you speak to your uncle?" "I had rather not." "You are afraid to tell him of this; but of course he must be told. Will you speak to John?" "Certainly; I meant to do so going to town to-morrow." "And if he tells you you are wrong--" "Aunt, I know I am not wrong. It is nonsense to say that I am wrong in--" "That's disrespectful, Margaret!"