The Squire's Daughter Part 78

"However, to play the part of the dog in the manger," Ralph went on, "is not a very manly thing to do, so I have decided to tell you all I know."

"You will reveal the lode to me?" he questioned eagerly.

"Yes. It will be good for the neighbourhood and the county in any case."

The squire sat down suddenly, and furtively wiped his eyes.

"But the money-lenders will have to be squared first. Will you allow me to tackle them for you? I should enjoy the bull-baiting."

"You mean----"

"I mean that in any case they must not be allowed to get the lode into their hands."

"I don't know how it is to be avoided."

"Will you leave the matter to me and William Menire?"

"You mean you will help me?"

"We shall be helping the neighbourhood."

Sir John struggled hard to keep the tears back, but failed.

"And you impose no condition?" he sobbed at length.

"No, I impose no condition. If the thing is to be done, let it be done freely."

"You unman me altogether," the squire said, with br.i.m.m.i.n.g eyes. "I did not expect, I really didn't. I have no claim, and I've been beastly hard on you. I know I have, and I'm sorry, real sorry, mind you; and if--if----"

"We'll let the 'ifs' go for the present, if you don't mind," Ralph said, with a dry laugh. "There are a good many present difficulties to be met.

I should like to see your agreement with the money-lenders."

"You shall see everything. If you can only get me out of this hole you will make me the most thankful man alive!"

Ralph smiled dubiously.

"When can I see the papers?" he asked.

"To-day if you like. They are at the Manor."

"Very good. I will walk across after tea, or will you fetch them here?"

"If it would not be troubling you to walk so far----"

"I will come with pleasure."

The squire felt very chastened and humble as he made his way slowly back to the Manor, through Treliskey Plantation. Magnanimity is rarely lost on anyone, kindness will melt the hardest heart. The squire's pride was being slowly undermined, his arrogance seemed almost a contemptible thing.

By contrast with Ralph's n.o.bler character he began to see how mean and poor was his own. He had prided himself so much on his name and pedigree, and yet he was only beginning to see how unworthy he had proved of both. What, after all, was the mere accident of birth in comparison with moral greatness? Measured by any right standard, Ralph Penlogan was an infinitely better man than he. He had not only intellect, but heart. He possessed that true n.o.bility which enabled a man to forgive his enemy. He was turning in a very literal sense his cheek to the smiter.

Sir John entered the house with a curious feeling of diffidence. His home, and yet not his. The dowager made him welcome, and placed the library and a bedroom above at his disposal for as long as he might care to stay.

Dorothy was delighted to have her father with her again, and yet she was strangely puzzled as to the object of his visit. She was puzzled still more when a little later Ralph Penlogan was shown into the room where she and her father sat.

She rose to her feet in a moment, while a hot blush swept over her neck and face. For a second or two she stood irresolute, and glanced hastily from one to the other. What was the meaning of it all? Her father, instead of glaring angrily at his visitor, received him with the greatest cordiality and even deference, while Ralph advanced with no sign of fear or hesitation.

Neither of them appeared for the moment to be conscious of her presence.

Ralph did not even look towards her.

Then her father said in a low voice--

"You can leave us for a little while, Dorothy."

She hurried out of the room with flaming cheeks and fast-beating heart.

What could her father want with Ralph Penlogan? What was the mystery underlying his hurried visit? Could it have any reference to herself?

Had her father relented? Had he at last come to see that character was more than social position--that a man was great not by virtue of birth, but by virtue of achievement?

For the best part of an hour she sat in her own room waiting and listening. Then the dowager summoned her to read an article to her out of the _Spectator_.

It grew dark at last, and Dorothy sought her own room once more, but she was so restless she could not sit still. The very air seemed heavy with fate. Her father and Ralph were still closeted in the library. What could they have to say to each other that kept them so long?

When the lamps were lighted she stole out of her room and waited for a few moments on the landing. Then she ran lightly down the stairs into the hall. The library door was still closed, but a moment later it was pulled slightly open. She drew back into a recess and pulled a curtain in front of her, though why she did so she hardly knew.

She could hear distinctly a murmur of voices, then came a merry peal of laughter. She had not heard her father laugh so merrily for years.

Then the two men walked out into the hall side by side, and began to converse in subdued tones. She could see them very distinctly. How handsome Ralph looked in the light of the lamp.

The squire went with his visitor to the front door, and opened it. She caught Ralph's parting words, "I will see to the matter without delay.

Good-night!"

When the squire returned from the door he saw Dorothy standing under the lamp with a look of inquiry in her eyes.

CHAPTER XLIII

SIR JOHN ATONES

Dorothy did not see Ralph again for nearly a month, and the hope that had animated her for a brief period threatened to go out in darkness.

Her father, much to her surprise, remained at the Manor, he and the dowager having come to terms that appeared to be mutually satisfactory.

But for what purpose he had returned to St. Goram, and why he remained, she did not know, and more puzzling still was why he had held that long and friendly interview with Ralph Penlogan.

More than once she had tried to get at the truth. But her father was completely on his guard against every chance question. He had never been in the habit of taking Dorothy into his confidence in business matters.

He was of opinion that the less girls knew about matters outside the domestic realm the better. Moreover, until he was safely out of the clutches of the money-lenders, it would not be safe to take anyone into his confidence. So to Dorothy, at any rate, he remained a mystery from day to day, and the longer he remained, the deeper the mystery seemed to grow.

There was, however, one compensation. He was more cheerful and more affectionate than he had ever been since her refusal to marry Lord Probus. What that might mean she was unable to guess. There appeared to be no particular reason for his cheerfulness. For the moment he was living on charity, for of course he could not dream of paying the dowager for his board and lodgings. He did not appear to be engaged on any gambling adventure or business enterprise. No one came to see him.