I + 

The death of Horace Pentland was not an event to be kept quiet by so simple a means as a funeral that was almost secret; news of it leaked out and was carried here and there by ladies eager to rake up an old Pentland scandal in vengeance upon Aunt Cassie, the communityвАЩs principal disseminator of calamities. It even penetrated at last the offices of the Transcript, which sent a request for an obituary of the dead man, for he was, after all, a member of one of BostonвАЩs proudest families. And then, without warning, the ghost of Horace Pentland reappeared suddenly in the most disconcerting of all quartersвБ†вАФBrook Cottage. + 

The ghost accompanied Sabine up the long drive one hot morning while Olivia sat listening to Aunt Cassie. Olivia noticed that Sabine approached them with an unaccustomed briskness, that all trace of the familiar indolence had vanished. As she reached the edge of the terrace, she called out with a bright look in her eyes, вАЬI have newsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ of Cousin Horace.вАЭ + 

She was enjoying the moment keenly, and the sight of her enjoyment must have filled Aunt Cassie, who knew her so well, with uneasiness. She took her own time about revealing the news, inquiring first after Aunt CassieвАЩs health, and settling herself comfortably in one of the wicker chairs. She was an artist in the business of tormenting the old lady and she waited now to squeeze every drop of effect out of her announcement. She was not to be hurried even by the expression which Aunt CassieвАЩs face inevitably assumed at the mention of Horace PentlandвБ†вАФthe expression of one who finds himself in the vicinity of a bad smell and is unable to escape. + 

At last, after lighting a cigarette and moving her chair out of the sun, Sabine announced in a flat voice, вАЬCousin Horace has left everything he possesses to me.вАЭ + 

A look of passionate relief swept Aunt CassieвАЩs face, a look which said, вАЬPooh! Pooh! Is that all?вАЭ She laughedвБ†вАФit was almost a titter, colored by mockeryвБ†вАФand said, вАЬIs that all? I imagine it doesnвАЩt make you a great heiress.вАЭ + 

(вАЬAunt Cassie,вАЭ thought Olivia, вАЬought not to have given Sabine such an opportunity; she has said just what Sabine wanted her to say.вАЭ) + 

Sabine answered her: вАЬBut youвАЩre wrong there, Aunt Cassie. ItвАЩs not money that heвАЩs left, but furnitureвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ furniture and bibelotsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and itвАЩs a wonderful collection. IвАЩve seen it myself when I visited him at Mentone.вАЭ + 

вАЬYou ought never to have gone.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You certainly have lost all moral sense, Sabine. YouвАЩve forgotten all that I taught you as a little girl.вАЭ + 

Sabine ignored her. вАЬYou see, he worshiped such things, and he spent twenty years of his life collecting them.вАЭ + 

вАЬIt seems improbable that they could be worth muchвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ with as little money as Horace Pentland hadвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ only what we let him have to live on.вАЭ + 

Sabine smiled again, sardonically, perhaps because the tilt with Aunt Cassie proved so successful. вАЬYouвАЩre wrong again, Aunt Cassie.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ TheyвАЩre worth a great dealвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ far more than he paid for them, because there are things in his collection which you couldnвАЩt buy elsewhere for any amount of money. He took to trading pieces off until his collection became nearly perfect.вАЭ She paused for a moment, allowing the knife to rest in the wound. вАЬItвАЩs an immensely valuable collection. You see, I know about it because I used to see Cousin Horace every winter when I went to Rome. I knew more about him than any of you. He was a man of perfect taste in such things. He really knew.вАЭ + 

Olivia sat all the while watching the scene with a quiet amusement. The triumph on this occasion was clearly SabineвАЩs, and Sabine knew it. She sat there enjoying every moment of it, watching Aunt Cassie writhe at the thought of so valuable a heritage going out of the direct family, to so remote and hostile a connection. It was clearly a disaster ranking in importance with the historic loss of Savina PentlandвАЩs parure of pearls and emeralds at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. It was property lost forever that should have gone into the family fortune. + 

Sabine was opening the letter slowly, allowing the paper to crackle ominously, as if she knew that every crackle ran painfully up and down the spine of the old lady. + 

вАЬItвАЩs the invoice from the Custom House,вАЭ she said, lifting each of the five long sheets separately. вАЬFive pages longвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ total value perhaps as much as seventy-five thousand dollars.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Of course thereвАЩs not even any duty to pay, as theyвАЩre all old things.вАЭ + 

Aunt Cassie started, as if seized by a sudden pain, and Sabine continued, вАЬHe even left provision for shipping itвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ all save four or five big pieces which are being held at Mentone. There are eighteen cases in all.вАЭ + 

She began to read the items one by oneвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ cabinets, commodes, chairs, lusters, tables, pictures, bits of bronze, crystal and jadeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ all the long list of things which Horace Pentland had gathered with the loving care of a connoisseur during the long years of his exile; and in the midst of the reading, Aunt Cassie, unable any longer to control herself, interrupted, saying, вАЬIt seems to me he was an ungrateful, disgusting man. It ought to have gone to my dear brother, who supported him all these years. I donвАЩt see why he left it all to a remote cousin like you.вАЭ + 

Sabine delved again into the envelope. вАЬWait,вАЭ she said. вАЬHe explains that point himselfвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ in his own will.вАЭ She opened a copy of this document and, searching for a moment, read, вАЬTo my cousin, Sabine Callendar (Mrs.¬†Cane Callendar), ofвБ†вАФRue de Tilsitt, Paris, France, and Newport, Rhode Island, I leave all my collections of furniture, tapestries, bibelots, etc., in gratitude for her kindness to me over a period of many years and in return for her faith and understanding at a time when the rest of my family treated me as an outcast.вАЭ + 

Aunt Cassie was beside herself. вАЬAnd how should he have been treated if not as an outcast? He was an ungrateful, horrible wretch! It was Pentland money which supported him all his miserable life.вАЭ She paused a moment for breath. вАЬI always told my dear brother that twenty-five hundred a year was far more than Horace Pentland needed. And that is how he has spent it, to insult the very people who were kind to him.вАЭ + 

Sabine put the papers back in the envelope and, looking up, said in her hard, metallic voice: вАЬMoneyвАЩs not everything, as I told you once before, Aunt Cassie. IвАЩve always said that the trouble with the PentlandsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ with most of Boston, for that matterвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ lies in the fact that they were lower middle-class shopkeepers to begin with and theyвАЩve never lost any of the lower middle-class virtuesвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ especially about money. TheyвАЩve been proud of living off the income of their incomes.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ No, it wasnвАЩt money that Horace Pentland wanted. It was a little decency and kindness and intelligence. I fancy you got your moneyвАЩs worth out of the poor twenty-five hundred dollars you sent him every year. It was worth a great deal more than that to keep the truth under a bushel.вАЭ + 

A long and painful silence followed this speech and Olivia, turning toward Sabine, tried to reproach her with a glance for speaking thus to the old lady. Aunt Cassie was being put to rout so pitifully, not only by Sabine, but by Horace Pentland, who had taken his vengeance shrewdly, long after he was dead, by striking at the Pentland sense of possessions, of property. + 

The light of triumph glittered in the green eyes of Sabine. She was paying back, bit by bit, the long account of her unhappy childhood; and she had not yet finished. + 

Olivia, watching the conflict with disinterest, was swept suddenly by a feeling of pity for the old lady. She broke the painful silence by asking them both to stay for lunch, but this time Aunt Cassie refused, in all sincerity, and Olivia did not press her, knowing that she could not bear to face the ironic grin of Sabine until she had rested and composed her face. Aunt Cassie seemed suddenly tired and old this morning. The indefatigable, meddling spirit seemed to droop, no longer flying proudly in the wind. + 

The queer, stuffy motor appeared suddenly on the drive, the back seat filled by the rotund form of Miss Peavey surrounded by four yapping Pekinese. The intricate veils which she wore on entering a motor streamed behind her. Aunt Cassie rose and, kissing Olivia with ostentation, turned to Sabine and went back again to the root of the matter. вАЬI always told my dear brother,вАЭ she repeated, вАЬthat twenty-five hundred a year was far too much for Horace Pentland.вАЭ + 

The motor rattled off, and Sabine, laying the letter on the table beside her, said, вАЬOf course, I donвАЩt want all this stuff of Cousin HoraceвАЩs, but IвАЩm determined it shanвАЩt go to her. If she had it the poor old man wouldnвАЩt rest in his grave. Besides, she wouldnвАЩt know what to do with it in a house filled with tassels and antimacassars and souvenirs of Uncle Ned. SheвАЩd only sell it and invest the money in invincible securities.вАЭ + 

вАЬSheвАЩs not wellвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ the poor old thing,вАЭ said Olivia. вАЬShe wouldnвАЩt have had the motor come for her if sheвАЩd been well. SheвАЩs pretended all her life, and now sheвАЩs really illвБ†вАФsheвАЩs terrified at the idea of death. She canвАЩt bear it.вАЭ + 

The old relentless, cruel smile lighted SabineвАЩs face. вАЬNo, now that the time has come she hasnвАЩt much faith in the Heaven sheвАЩs preached all her life.вАЭ There was a brief silence and Sabine added grimly, вАЬShe will certainly be a nuisance to Saint Peter.вАЭ + 

But there was only sadness in OliviaвАЩs dark eyes, because she kept thinking what a shallow, futile life Aunt CassieвАЩs had been. She had turned her back upon life from the beginning, even with the husband whom she married as a convenience. She kept thinking what a poor barren thing that life had been; how little of richness, of memories, it held, now that it was coming to an end. + 

Sabine was speaking again. вАЬI know youвАЩre thinking that IвАЩm heartless, but you donвАЩt know how cruel she was to meвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ what things she did to me as a child.вАЭ Her voice softened a little, but in pity for herself and not for Aunt Cassie. It was as if the ghost of the queer, unhappy, red-haired little girl of her childhood had come suddenly to stand there beside them where the ghost of Horace Pentland had stood a little while before. The old ghosts were crowding about once more, even there on the terrace in the hot August sunlight in the beauty of OliviaвАЩs flowery garden. + 

вАЬShe sent me into the world,вАЭ continued SabineвАЩs hard voice, вАЬknowing nothing but what was false, believingвБ†вАФthe little I believed in anythingвБ†вАФin false gods, thinking that marriage was no more than a business contract between two young people with fortunes. She called ignorance by the name of innocence and quoted the Bible and that milk-and-water philosopher EmersonвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ вАШdear Mr.¬†EmersonвАЩвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ whenever I asked her a direct, sensible question.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And all she accomplished was to give me a hunger for factsвБ†вАФhard, unvarnished factsвБ†вАФpleasant or unpleasant.вАЭ + 

A kind of hot passion entered the metallic voice, so that it took on an unaccustomed warmth and beauty. вАЬYou donвАЩt know how much she is responsible for in my life. SheвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and all the others like herвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ killed my chance of happiness, of satisfaction. She cost me my husband.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ What chance had I with a man who came from an older, wiser worldвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ a world in which things were looked at squarely, and honestly as truthвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ a man who expected women to be women and not timid icebergs? No, I donвАЩt think I shall ever forgive her.вАЭ She paused for a moment, thoughtfully, and then added, вАЬAnd whatever she did, whatever cruelties she practised, whatever nonsense she preached, was always done in the name of duty and always вАШfor your own good, my dear.вАЩвАКвАЭ + 

Then abruptly, with a bitter smile, her whole manner changed and took on once more the old air of indolent, almost despairing, boredom. вАЬI couldnвАЩt begin to tell you all, my dear.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It goes back too far. WeвАЩre all rotten hereвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ not so much rotten as desiccated, for there was never much blood in us to rot.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The roots go deep.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But I shanвАЩt bore you again with all this, I promise.вАЭ + 

Olivia, listening, wanted to say, вАЬYou donвАЩt know how much blood there is in the Pentlands.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You donвАЩt know that they arenвАЩt Pentlands at all, but the children of Savina Dalgedo and Toby Cane.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But even that hasnвАЩt mattered.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The very air, the very earth of New England, has changed them, dried them up.вАЭ + 

But she could not say it, for she knew that the story of those letters must never fall into the hands of the unscrupulous Sabine. + 

вАЬIt doesnвАЩt bore me,вАЭ said Olivia quietly. вАЬIt doesnвАЩt bore me. I understand it much too well.вАЭ + 

вАЬIn any case, weвАЩve spoiled enough of one fine day with it.вАЭ Sabine lighted another cigarette and said with an abrupt change of tone, вАЬAbout this furniture, Olivia.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I donвАЩt want it. IвАЩve a house full of such things in Paris. I shouldnвАЩt know what to do with it and I donвАЩt think I have the right to break it up and sell it. I want you to have it here at Pentlands.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Horace Pentland would be satisfied if it went to you and Cousin John. And itвАЩll be an excuse to clear out some of the Victorian junk and some of the terrible early American stuff. Plenty of people will buy the early American things. The best of them are only bad imitations of the real things Horace Pentland collected, and you might as well have the real ones.вАЭ + 

Olivia protested, but Sabine pushed the point, scarcely giving her time to speak. вАЬI want you to do it. It will be a kindness to meвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and after all, Horace PentlandвАЩs furniture ought to be hereвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ in Pentlands. IвАЩll take one or two things for Th√©r√®se, and the rest you must keep, only nothingвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ not so much as a medallion or a snuffboxвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ is to go to Aunt Cassie. She hated him while he was alive. It would be wrong for her to possess anything belonging to him after he is dead. Besides,вАЭ she added, вАЬa little new furniture would do a great deal toward cheering up the house. ItвАЩs always been rather spare and cold. It needs a little elegance and sense of luxury. There has never been any splendor in the Pentland familyвБ†вАФor in all New England, for that matter.вАЭ + 