Mr. Standish did not reply. He took out a bunch of keys and fitted one into a drawer. Meg saw him draw out a bundle of letters. He kept his eyes averted from her as he said:
"I shrink from telling the particulars I must now state, or of hinting at an obligation. But I am playing for a great stake—one that is all the world to me; and I see no means of moving you, sir, but by referring to this fact, and bringing evidences of its truth before you."
He laid his hand upon the letters.
"It is your wish, sir, that I should speak before Miss Beecham. Perhaps it is as well that she should hear what I have to say."
"It is my wish. Go on, sir!" said Sir Malcolm fiercely as Mr. Standish paused.
"Your son was adjutant of his regiment. Whatever were his follies and recklessness, he was a good soldier. He was trusted by his comrades, and he was proud of their trust. You were stern with him, sir—I shall not say overstern. It is not for me to judge."
"Go on, sir," said the old man.
"Since his marriage, if you remember, you held no communication with him——"
"If your claim upon me," interrupted the baronet fiercely, "is that you are a relation of the unhappy woman he married, I think you must admit that the fact that I have recognized her daughter, and that I mean publicly to declare her my grandchild, is a reparation which answers all claims and silences all appeals."