They were all so very nice to him that I thought he must be some old family friend, but it turned out that none of them had seen him before that afternoon.

He had asked to look over the house, and told Jean that he had lived in it as a boy, and Jean, remarking his rather shabby clothes and frail appearance, jumped to the conclusion that he had failed in life and--you know Jean--was at once full of tenderness and compassion.
At his request she sang to him a song he had heard his mother sing, and finished by presenting him with the song-book containing it--a somewhat rare collection which she valued.
"This shabby old man, it seems, was one Peter Reid, a wealthy London business man, and owner of The Rigs, born and bred in Priorsford, who had just heard from his doctor that he had not long to live, and had come back to his childhood's home meaning to die there.

He had no relations and few friends, and had made up his mind to leave his money to the first person who did anything for him without thought of payment.
(He seems to have been a hard, suspicious type of man who had not attracted kindness.) So Fate guided his steps to Jean, and this is the result.

Yes, rather far-fetched, I agree, but Fate is often like a novelette.
"Mr.Peter Reid had meant to ask the Jardines to leave The Rigs and let him settle there, but--there must have been a soft part somewhere in the hard little man--he hadn't the heart to do it when he found how attached they were to the place.
"I was at The Rigs when the lawyer's letter came.

Jean as an heiress is very funny and, at the same time, horribly touching.