If L'Estrange drank in this praise with ecstasy, he had to turn away his head, lest the sudden flush that covered his face should be observed.
“I have no wish to hear the story of this claim now; you shall tell it to me some other time. But just tell me, was it ever heard of in my father's time?”
“I believe so. Your father knew of it, but did not deem it serious.”
“Marion, of course, despises it still; and what does Temple say?”
“One scarcely knows. I don't think they have had a letter from him since they left Ireland.”
“See what a wise fellow I was!” cried he, laughing. “I sank so low in life that any change must be elevation. You are all great folks to me!”
There was a long and painful pause after this—each deep in his own thoughts. At last Jack asked suddenly, “How is Marion? Is she happy in her marriage?”
“We hear next to nothing of her; the newspapers tell us of her being at great houses and in fine company, but we know no more.”
“Of course she 's happy, then. When she was a child she would only play with us if we made her a queen; and though we often tried to rebel—we were great levellers in our way—she always kept us down, and whether we liked it or not, we had to admit the sovereignty.”
“Your younger sister”—he did not call her Nelly—“was not of this mould?”