The voice of the woman was almost free from emotion. It was slightly tremulous towards the end; but if she had been reading aloud a passage she but dimly understood, she could have displayed no less emotion. "No home!--no home!" said Mr. Paulton, so softly as to be only just audible. "I was under the impression you had been left Kilcash House." "Yes, my husband left me Kilcash House and other things--other valuable things--and a large sum of money. But----" Again she paused at the ominous "but." Again all were silent, and now even Mr. Paulton could not light on words that seemed likely to help the widow over her hesitation. "But I cannot take anything." Once more the old man repeated her words: "Cannot take anything! Are the conditions so extraordinary--so onerous?" He and O'Brien thought that the principal condition must be forfeiture in case she married Blake. This would explain much of what was now incomprehensible. "There are no conditions whatever in the will," she said in the same unmoved way. "No conditions! And yet you have no home, although your late husband has left you a fine house?" "Yes, and all that is necessary for the maintenance of that house; notwithstanding which, I have no home, and am a beggar." "Mrs. Davenport," cried the old man, with genuine concern, "what you say is very shocking. I hope it is not true." "I know this is not the time or place to talk of business. I know my business can have little or no interest for you." "Excuse me, my dear Mrs. Davenport, there is nothing out of place about such talk now, and you really must not say we take but slight interest in your affairs. On the contrary, we are very much interested in them. I think I may answer for every member of my family, and say that beyond our own immediate circle of relatives there is no lady in whom we take so deep an interest." The old man was solemn and emphatic. "I am sure," said Mrs. Paulton, looking round the table, "that my husband has said nothing but the simple fact." She turned her eyes upon the widow. "Mrs. Davenport, I hope you will always allow me to be your friend. Your troubles have, I know, been very great, and you are now no doubt suffering so severely that you think the whole world is against you. We, at all events, are not. Anything we can do for you we will; and, believe me, Mrs. Davenport, doing anything for you will be a downright pleasure." The widow bowed her head for a moment before speaking. It seemed as though she could not trust her voice. After a brief pause she sat up, and, resting the tips of the fingers of both hands on the table, said: "As I told you earlier to-day, I have been alone all my life, and the notion of fellowship is terrible to me, coming now upon me when my life is over." "Indeed you should not talk of your life being over. You are still quite young. Many a woman does not begin her life until she is older than you." "I am thirty-four, and that is not young for one to begin life."