Maureen made no answer for she could not. Dominic, feeling very stiff and tall and determined, went as far as the study door. The Reverend Patrick lived in his study; it was his room of rooms. The lad was just about to go in when he heard voices, which surprised him and made his stout young heart stand still. One voice was his father's, the other his step-mother's.
Dominic had never in his short life of fifteen years been known to do an underhand or mean thing. It is true he had plenty of faults--for what lad has not--but his virtues outshone strong passions, and nobody in reality guessed that he possessed a wild, fearless, and adventurous nature.
At the present moment he stood listening as though stunned. He knew quite well that he was eavesdropping. The study door was a little open, and he could hear as distinctly as though he were in the room. He did not mind eavesdropping on this occasion. In fact, he meant to eavesdrop. What did it matter to him just then what the world thought of him. _They_ were talking--his father--his most beloved father--and his equally detestable step-mother; and Dominic fully resolved with all his boyish heart to listen to each word they said, for he had caught the word "Maureen," and he had further noticed the anguish in his father's voice.
"Constance, you can't do it--you cannot be so cruel!"
"I was half-way to Kingsala," was the reply, "when it suddenly flashed over me, Patrick, that you had better know my intentions, so I returned on purpose. I'm going straight to see Mr. Murphy, the solicitor, and after telling you first, I shall have a round talk with him. My talk will be with regard to Maureen."
There was a pause, but the young eavesdropper had very sharp ears.
"You told me yourself, you silly man, that you are dying. It is true, that having taken the best medical advice, you may possibly hold on for a year or two, but you confess that your days are numbered. Now a year here or there does not much matter to me. I shall be a widow before long. Now I have my own girls to provide for--my Daisy and my Henrietta. I can do well for them, and your insurance money and your private means are settled on Kitty and the two boys by marriage settlement. There is nothing, therefore, for Maureen. When you adopted her, Patrick, you should have provided for her. I tell you, frankly and plainly, that after your death I will do nothing for the child. Maureen will be a beggar. She has never been properly educated, and I see nothing for her but to go into service. If she were a little taller she might make a parlourmaid. It is a pity she is so short and so plain. Well, I am outspoken. I tell you the exact truth. Maureen will not get one shilling from me, and your children's money cannot be touched; so now you know."