‘No, Hindes, I wish to say what I have to say to-night, and I am quite equal to it. I must see Throgmorton, my solicitor, about my will to-morrow, without fail, for the next day I intend taking my wife and her sister to Scotland for a change. But I will be as brief as I can. I mean, therefore, to alter my will with respect to the names, but not to disposition of property. To my wife and her sister, I shall leave, for their lifetimes, the half of my fortune, and the other half--my poor Jenny’s share--to you.’ ‘To _me_,’ exclaimed Henry Hindes, starting from his chair. ‘No, no, it is impossible. The very idea is horrible to me. I will not take it.’ Mr Crampton gazed at this sudden eruption in mute surprise. ‘But why not you, my dear Hindes?’ he said, after a pause. ‘You are the best--I may say--the nearest and dearest friend I possess; and now that _she’s_ gone, your children are the only ones in whom I feel any interest. I can never thank nor repay you for all you have done for me during this sad time. I do not mean to offer you my fortune as a requital, only to show you how deeply I have felt your goodness to me, and how truly I value your friendship and the love you felt for my poor girl.’ ‘I cannot take it--it is impossible,’ gasped Hindes, as he nervously swept his brow, over and over again, with his handkerchief. ‘I know you are rich enough for every ordinary purpose, my dear fellow, but wealth is never unwelcome. Even with our combined fortunes, you will not be a Rothschild. And, even if you were, you have three children to spend it on, and may have more. If you absolutely refuse to be my heir, I will make little Walter so. You will not refuse to let me benefit your child, to pass on to him that which was intended for my own.’ ‘I would rather not indeed!’ repeated Hindes. ‘Walter will have plenty. The idea of his being your heir is painful to me. Surely there are members amongst your own or your wife’s family who would be thankful to be remembered by you, and need your kindness more than my children do.’ Mr Crampton looked puzzled and a little vexed. He had wished to show his appreciation of the Hindes’s affection for his dead daughter, and his partner’s determined refusal of his offer wounded him. It is not pleasant to have an intended kindness thrown back in one’s face. But all he said was,-- ‘You have disappointed me!’ ‘I am sorry,’ said Hindes, spasmodically, ‘but it took me by surprise. It is more than I deserve at your hands--I feel as if I had no right to accept your bounty. People might think it strange--they might begin to question--’