“How do you know? Who has been telling you all this? I am out of all patience!” Mrs. Richards interrupted, passionately. “Everybody is continually throwing at me the fact that Anna Chudleigh once saved my life. Hundreds of people have saved the lives of others and considered it their duty to have done so. If I was drowning and Anna saw me, it was natural for her—it _belonged_ to her to save me if she could, as I should have done, no doubt, had the circumstances been reversed.” “True; but this view of the case does not lessen your obligation, nor license you to abuse the trust that has been committed to you,” Mr. Rosevelt answered, sternly. “You bound yourself to this child’s dying father to ‘do the best you could for her,’ to give her a home, and see that her education was properly attended to, and you owed it to him and to her to keep your promise.” “I owed her nothing,” cried the enraged woman, losing all control of herself; “and you, Uncle Jacob, are overstepping all bounds by interfering with what is none of your business.” “The girl saved my life almost at the sacrifice of her own, and I shall _make_ it my business to do what I can for her while I live,” Mr. Rosevelt answered, with dignity. “Well, you will find, I reckon, that you have not helped her cause very much by taking up weapons against me for her,” snapped his niece, vindictively, and with a glance of dislike at Star. “Saved your life!” she continued, sarcastically. “Well, perhaps, she did; but, in my opinion, that is all sentimental gush, for she is an artful jade, and has doubtless palavered and cooed over you until she has pulled the wool over your eyes in fine shape.” “What could have been her object, Ellen?” asked the old gentleman, dryly. “Certainly not the expectation of getting any portion of my fortune, since appearances must have indicated to her as well as to you that I had nothing to give her. If she had known me, and done all this _when I was considered rich_, there might possibly be some reason in your accusations.” This shaft told keenly, for his niece colored guiltily to the roots of her hair. “Your irony is ill-timed, it appears to me, Uncle Jacob,” she said, sullenly, “especially as you are indebted to me for the bare necessaries of life, not to speak of its comforts.” “Indebted to you, am I, Ellen? I do not believe in recriminations, but allow me to ask, do you know the cost of those diamonds which you have on, and have you forgotten where you got them?” Mrs. Richards’ brilliant color forsook her in an instant, and she became as white as the mass of snowy lace which rose and fell with the angry pulsation of her heart. Her passionate temper prompted her to tear those flashing stones from her person and cast them in the face of her accuser; but her pride and avarice were the strongest attributes of her nature, and knowing that she would not be likely to have them replaced, she refrained from so rash an act.