Andrew Cameron had not quite done this; he had meant well enough
by his uncle at first, and what he had finally done he tried
to justify to himself by the doctrine that a man must look
out for Number One.
Margaret Lloyd made no such excuses for him; she held him responsible,
not only for her lost fortune, but for her father's death,
and never forgave him for it. When Abraham Lloyd had died,
Andrew Cameron, perhaps pricked by his conscience, had come
to her, sleekly and smoothly, to offer her financial aid.
He would see, he told her, that she never suffered want.
Margaret Lloyd flung his offer back in his face after a fashion
that left nothing to be desired in the way of plain speaking.
She would die, she told him passionately, before she would accept
a penny or a favour from him. He had preserved an unbroken
show of good temper, expressed his heartfelt regret that she
should cherish such an unjust opinion of him, and had left
her with an oily assurance that he would always be her friend,
and would always be delighted to render her any assistance
in his power whenever she should choose to ask for it.
The Old Lady had lived for twenty years in the firm conviction
that she would die in the poorhouse--as, indeed, seemed not unlikely--
before she would ask a favour of Andrew Cameron.
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