"Of late, I've had an awful idea, that Sophy has her suspicions; she cross-questions me so closely about my coffee and crops. I made a bargain with her, after Maddie's death, that every three years, I was free to spend six months on the estate—the—er—the master's eye, you know! Recently it has seemed to me that my wife has been looking at me curiously; of course this may only be my own guilty conscience! And she told me, before we parted, that this is the last time I am coming out here—alone. She wishes to visit the estate, and thinks it must be so interesting. I'm half afraid she will keep her word, and when she sees the coffee,—there will be the devil to pay! I dare say she'll divorce me."
"Can she? I don't know much about such matters, but I'd say not."
"Well, she can stop supplies, and make things deuced unpleasant, and that's not the worst."
"No? I should have said it was."
"There's Mota, my little darling girl—she is a beauty, eh?"
"She is, indeed," agreed Mallender. "No two opinions there!"
"And looks quite Europe; not like the poor boys. They are bright young fellows, the image of my father: what would he have thought of his two copies in black? He was a terribly straight-laced man, long family prayers, no theatre, no wine—he would not even allow mustard on the table, because it was a stimulant! I was kept so cruelly tight, that I broke out, of course. The boys go to Doveton College, and this is their holidays. They are clever little chaps; I get capital reports of them both, ultimately they will find good billets, and be all right. It's little Mota I'm thinking of. She learns next to nothing beyond reading and writing, and the love of her own way; not a bit like her mother there—takes after mine. The child ought to go to England, and the boys too. She'd be accepted; but how could I account for them? I've saved a little, and made my will, but if anything happened to me, what would become of the children?"
Rochfort's voice trembled, his eyes were misty. It was difficult to realise, that here was the identical Rochfort, known at home for his sunny humour, and natural geniality; or that the cheery smart man of the world, was the same as this stricken parent, with the anxious face, and voice shaken with emotion.
"By Jove, Mallender, it's true, what the Bible says, 'The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge'! Many a night I lie awake puzzling my head about these kids. You are a sensible chap,—bar one subject,—and can see into a question better than I, who am always looking at it; what do you advise?"
"I advise you to tell your wife!" was Mallender's prompt reply.