But now 'tis done, I hope ye're prepared to make
the best of it?"
I saw at once that his daughter had not yet confided in him; that he was
still entangled in my lie. So I thought it well to probe him deeper
while I might.
"What would you call 'the best' if I may ask?" said I, growing the
cooler with some better seeing of the way ahead.
"The marriage settlements!" he cried shrilly, coming to the point at
once, as any miser would. "'Tis the merest matter of form, as ye may
say, for your title to Appleby Hundred is well burnt out, I promise you.
But for the decent look of it you might make over your quitclaim to your
wife."
"Aye, truly; so I might."
"And so you should, sir; that you should, ye miserable, spying
runag"--he choked and coughed behind his hand and then began again
without the epithets. "'Tis the very least ye can do for her now, when
you have the rope fair around your curs--ahem--your--your rebel neck.
Only for the form's sake, to be sure, ye understand, for she'd inherit
after you in any case."
I saw his drift at last, and, not caring to spare him, sped the shaft of
truth and let it find the joint in his harness.
"'Tis as you say, Mr. Stair. But as it chances, Mistress Margery is not
my wife."
If I had flung the candle at him where he stood fumbling behind him for
the door-latch,'twould not have made him shrink or dodge the more.
"Wha--what's that ye say?" he piped in shrillest cadence. "Not married?
Then you--you--"
"I lied to save her honor--that was all.
Pages:
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113