Fred explained.
"But how could the workmen do it alone? Your father never trusted them, Fred; and I am sure my father had trouble enough with them in his day! They were always an ignorant, unreasonable set. Don't you remember how they struck several years ago, and workmen had to come from elsewhere? They must have some head. And who found the money? Mr. Minor says they cannot possibly succeed."
Some time Fred would have to stand Jack Darcy on his true pedestal. As well do it now, and have it over.
"The project was Mr. Darcy's. I believe he had most of the capital. It was very generous of him to risk it in such times as these."
Irene looked up from her moody contemplation of the fire. A dull flush suffused her face.
"Not Jack Darcy," she said,—"Sylvie Barry's great hero."
"Yes."
"Sylvie Barry!" re-echoed Mrs. Lawrence, and she looked sharply at her son. "And she gave you up for him! Who is he?"
"He used to be in the mill," answered Irene, with all her olden scorn. "His father was there also. And the Darcys"—
"The Darcys can boast as good blood as we!" exclaimed Fred, his face in a sudden heat. "And Jack Darcy is a gentleman by birth, by instinct, and, best of all, the impulses of a true and noble heart."