The sound of Michael Lee's voice afforded relief to every person in the room, for all were beginning to be oppressed by the gloom and silence which prevailed. Mr. Weston, as he entered, glanced before him with a shrinking, air, and, grasping Gideon Rowe's hand firmly, as though he derived comfort from the contact, shaded his eyes with his left hand, and peered timidly at the attendants, whose faces he could not see in the uncertain light.
"Only the servants," observed Mr. Rowe, answering the look; "I am glad to welcome you."
"Thank you, Mr. Rowe, thank you," said Mr. Weston. "I am the first then?"
"You are the first," replied Mr. Rowe gravely.
"I am almost ashamed to confess it," said Mr. Weston, "though I don't know why I should be ashamed to confess it to you, for we are old cronies, eh, Rowe? old cronies--but before I entered the room, and indeed for many days past, I have had a fearful and unreasonable fancy that, that----"
Gideon Rowe, with a serious smile, supplied the words which Mr. Weston was at a lost to utter. "That some one might have been before you, and deprived you of your position at the head of the table."
"It was so, I assure you," assented Mr. Weston; "but I have been much upset lately--crossed and thwarted on all sides, and where I had the best right to expect obedience."
"I have heard something--rumour is many-tongued, you know."
"Yes, yes; and tells lies, and invents, and makes black white. I can speak to you as an old friend. Tell me what you have heard."
"It is an impertinence for people to speak of these things, for they are family matters; and, indeed, it is difficult to bring vague rumours into definite words. Briefly as I understand it, Gerald----"