"It _is_ your fault, Sara Davenal. What I complain of is your fault. You are keeping this secret from me. I don't complain that they are going to sell the chairs and tables: Richard has willed it so, and there's no help for it: but I don't like to be kept in the dark as to the reason, or where the money is to go. Why don't you tell it me?" It was a painful position for Sara. She had always been dutiful and submissive to her aunt: far more so than her brothers or Caroline had been. "Aunt Bettina, I cannot tell you. I wish I could." "Do you mean to imply that you do not know it." "No, I don't mean that. I do know it. At least, I know it partially. Papa did not tell me quite all." Miss Bettina's usually placid chest was heaving with indignation. "And why could he not tell me, instead of you! I think I am more fit to be the depositary of a disgraceful secret than you are, a child! And I expect it is a disgraceful one." Ah, _how_ disgraceful Sara knew only too well. She sat in silence, not daring to acknowledge it, not knowing what to answer. "Once for all--will you confide it to me?" Sara believed, as it had come to this, that it would be better if she could confide it to her; but the injunction of Dr. Davenal was a bar; and that she felt it her duty religiously to obey. In her deep love for her father she would not cast the onus of refusal upon him, preferring to let it rest on herself. "Believe me, aunt, I _cannot_ tell you. I am very sorry; I wish I did not know it myself. It--it was papa's secret, and I must not tell it." In the twitching of her hands Miss Bettina contrived to throw down the ball of wool. Sara picked it up, glad of the little interlude. "Aunt Bettina, we could not have stayed on in this large house." "Did I say we could?" asked Miss Bettina. "Not now, when all your money's gone in ducks and drakes." "Papa--papa could not _help_ the money going," she returned, her heart swelling in the eager wish to defend him. "He could not help it, Aunt Bettina." "I am not saying that he could. I am not casting reproach on him. It is not to be supposed, had he been able to help it, that he would have let it go. How touchy you are!" A silence, and then Sara began. She mentioned what Mr. Wheatley had said, that the house might be a good investment for the money of Caroline; and Miss Bettina, not at all a bad woman of business, was struck with the suggestion. She sat revolving it in silence, apparently only intent on her knitting. She supposed it could be so settled on Mark's wife, but she did not understand much of what the law might be. The thought struck her that this ought to be seen about at once. "Mr. Wheatley thinks it would be so much better if these things could be taken too by whoever succeeds to the house," proceeded Sara. "So as to avoid a public auction."