"He wanted to make you executor of his will, but he couldn't complete it."
Stephen leaned his chin upon his hand. He looked through Ellen at some object far beyond her. He saw a bare room in a dingy old house in Philadelphia, an old desk and his own head bent in remorse above it. He had been grateful, Heaven bore witness, for a while.
"So you have everything arranged?" he said at last.
"Yes. I've quite forgotten how unhappy and forlorn I used to be."
"Yes." Ellen lifted her eyes to his. "I used to think that learning was everything, but I've found that it isn't. One needs satisfaction for the mind, but one needs satisfaction for the heart also. It seemed to me that I had nobody."
Stephen rose and went to the side of his desk and stood leaning upon it and looking down at Ellen.
"And you feel that now you have somebody?"
"Yes. I'm older and more sensible and I realize that Grandfather and Matthew are fond of me even though we think differently."
"And is this understanding of their affection sufficient food for the heart?"
Ellen's look was still straightforward, but her cheeks crimsoned. Fetzer would wonder where she stayed. She rose and stood before him.
At that Stephen put his hand under Ellen's soft chin and lifted her head. She smiled at him, and when Ellen smiled she invited unconsciously more of a caress than a mere touch of hand. But he did not move and she turned her cheek a little against the warm palm, then went away. Her cup of happiness was full. Her father's desires had hitherto been her law; she had now another law.
For a moment Stephen stood motionless beside his desk, then he began to walk up and down. What an extraordinary chance! He began to lay plans. She must come down out of her attic; she must wait no more upon him. Fetzer and Miss MacVane and Miss Knowlton must be told at once who she was, and there must be no slighting of her because she had done this lowly work. One of his favorite occupations in periods of enforced idleness in trains or on steamers had been the construction of various schemes of education based upon what he felt were the deficiencies of his own. He would see what could be done with this girl.
Presently he paused and stood for a long time motionless by his desk. Levis dead! There had been hunger in Levis's eyes, hunger which he might have satisfied. But no reproach should rest upon him henceforth; he would do all for this girl that Levis could have done, perhaps he might do more. He would atone. It was a moment of pure philanthropy, unalloyed by any less exalted impulse.