Colonel Eldridge sighed. "It is what ought to have been done," he said. "And you have always been ready to do it, I know. You'll do better for the place than I could now, and for my family. I've thought of them always; but I've not done the best for them that could have been done. I think I did before, but I've been too slow to see that it wasn't in my power any longer. I shall leave it all to you, William, and go with a quiet mind, if I have to go. Thank God, you can do what I couldn't and that I've come round to trusting to you for it before it's too late. Perhaps all the girls won't be here at home much longer. I should have liked to know that Pamela would be happily married; but that can't be hurried. There are other things to settle, William. We mustn't lose time. Poor Hugo ... there's something I want to tell you ... you know something of it. Oh, and Crowborough told me what you'd done, when it first came out. I haven't thanked you for that. There's such a lot to talk about."
He was getting restless. William put a quietening hand upon him. "I know everything," he said. "Don't let's waste time over that. I know about Mrs. Barrett, and the money. Young Comfrey told me of the new demand. He ought not to have done it, but I'm very glad he did. I can take all that on me now, Edmund. You won't want to hold out any longer, will you? I know you won't. I'm very sorry, dear old fellow, for the resentment I've been keeping up; and ashamed of it. If you leave it all to me, and put it out of your mind once for all, you'll give me more comfort and pleasure than you could in any other way."
He seemed to be controlling his mind to a new idea. "Yes," he said, at last, and more quietly. "It's one of the many things that you'll do for me. You've been generous all through, and I've been stiff and ungrateful."
The nurse and Mrs. Eldridge came in. William took his brother's hand in his, and they looked into one another's faces. It was a momentary look, but there was nothing to interrupt the message it carried, of understanding, and affection, and trust.
William went downstairs, and found Pamela there. He was much moved, and could not hide his emotion from her. She loved him the better for it. "You don't think he's worse, do you, Uncle Bill?" she asked him. "He will get better, won't he?"
"One always thinks of strong people you've never seen ill worse than they are," he said, to explain his emotion. "Yes, I think he'll get better now. I've had very little time with him, but I've been able to relieve his mind of some things that have lain heavy on it. I think there's nothing he need worry about now; and I shall be able to talk to him again. It's been a sad business, Pam—our quarrel. I've been very much to blame, but it's all over now. I don't want to think too much about it, as he won't, any longer. The way has been made clear for us to help each other in what we want done. You won't be leaving Hayslope, my dear. That's settled, at any rate."
"I shall be very glad of that, if he gets better," she said quietly. "Uncle Bill, I wish you'd send for Lord Crowborough."
"My dear, you mustn't get thinking that he won't recover. I'm not going to let myself think it. I believe, somehow, that if we fight against that idea in our minds, it will help him to fight through himself."
"Oh, yes, I know. But if he doesn't! I've made Nurse Mary tell me, if he doesn't get better, it can't last very long. I think he would like to see Lord Crowborough; he has depended on him a good deal lately, and he has always cheered him up when he has been over. Do send for him, will you, Uncle Bill?"
He was a little surprised at her earnestness, but promised to do what she wished. "I'll telephone over directly I get to the Grange," he said.