Part 3 (1/2)

I was silent. Certainly, infirmity of purpose was the very last thing to be predicated of the more than ordinarily forceful personality of the late Francis Graeme. But I am somewhat stubborn myself. ”I don't care,”

I persisted. ”'Hildebrand Hundred' isn't mine, and I won't take it.”

Miss Graeme looked at me. ”You know the will refers to me as only his daughter by adoption,” she said, ”and I could have no right to inherit the 'Hundred.' That was always clearly understood between us. He did leave me all that he could call his own.”

”I don't see how that matters. The estate belonged legally to Mr.

Graeme.”

”Merely because Mr. Richard Hildebrand chose to ignore the claims of the heir-at-law. And a blood relation at that.”

”Meaning Mr. John Thaneford, I suppose.”

Miss Graeme looked surprised. ”Has Mr. Eldon been acquainting you with the particulars of the family history?” she asked.

”I first learned of the actual facts from Mr. John Thaneford himself.”

Now there was something more than surprise in my Cousin Betty's demeanor; she seemed agitated, even uneasy.

”Apparently,” I went on, ”both the Thanefords resent what they consider to be an alienation of the estate. I don't believe they will feel the original wrong has been righted by my becoming the heir, even though I happen to be the only t.i.tular Hildebrand among us all.”

”But this is Maryland, you know, and many of the old English customs are still in force. Not legally, of course, but practically.”

”Such as primogeniture and the continuous entail,” I suggested.

”Yes. But only among the old families, you understand. It's a purely sentimental feeling.”

”How long have the Hildebrands been at the 'Hundred'?”

”There was Lawrence Hildebrand----”

”My great-great-great-grandfather,” I interjected.

”Yes. Well, he received a patent from the Crown. It must have been early in the seventeenth century when the second Charles Stuart was giving away princ.i.p.alities with both hands. There has been a Hildebrand as master ever since, except for my poor father's brief reign.”

”Brief?”

”Richard Hildebrand died in June, 1918. That is just a year ago.”

”My father was proud of the old family connection,” continued Miss Graeme, after a little pause, ”and at one time he even contemplated changing his patronymic, and so becoming actually Hildebrand of the 'Hundred,' But he never quite got to the legal process, or perhaps he then heard of you and that served to divert the current of his thoughts.

When was it that he hunted you up in Philadelphia?”

”It was in March.”

”He liked you certainly, and he was most anxious to have you visit us at the 'Hundred.' You were to come in the early part of June, I think.”

”Yes, but that was the week of my college reunion, and I had to decline.

I wrote that I would accept for a later date--any time in July.”