"Oh, sir." began Hugh, who was the spokesman of the rest, "think of our circumstances. We have children, as you have; they will all be thrown on the world——"
"Into this," replied Mr. Saumarez, "I cannot go. When the mortgage came into my hands—which it did along with some adjoining property about a year ago, on my return from abroad—I made a particular point of asking my agent what sort of men conducted the farm. And hearing from him that they were four brothers, all men of questionable character, named Brownlow, who owed their present degradation to their own laziness and folly, I said I wished to hear no more, and that the farm, which stood conveniently adjacent to a manor which is also mine, must be appropriated with no more delay than the usual legal routine permitted of. That is what I said to my agent. I presume—in fact, I know—he has acted on my orders. I have nothing more to say about it, so I wish you a good evening."
"We have children—two of us are married men," exclaimed Hugh, appealing to Mrs. Saumarez.
"We have had sickness in the family for months past," added Robert.
"It is not our fault—the harvests have been bad year after year."
But they were speaking to deaf ears. Mr. Saumarez, motioning to his wife and children, was turning away to enter the house.
"I don't know," said Thomas, who had not hitherto spoken, "what will become of our old father——"
"What?" inquired Mr. Saumarez sharply, turning round, "Is your old father still alive?"
"Yes, he is," they all replied at once, staring at him with most unfeigned surprise.
"I understood from my agent," replied Mr. Saumarez, his voice getting thick as he spoke, "that there were only you four brothers—men who deserved—men whom I knew to be——Look here, you Brownlows. You tell me your old father is still living. Is he well? Is he in fair health? Does his memory remain good? And how—how do you treat him in his old age?"