"Of one phase of the matter," he said, "I have never spoken. I refrained because Eben was unwilling that you should know, but justice is justice—you should honor your benefactor."
"Honor my benefactor? I don't understand."
The old man shook his lion-like head and, out of the parchment of his bony face, his eyes burned grimly.
"This house—this farm—all of it—we have only by the sufferance of Eben's generosity, and yet I've heard men call him close."
Conscience thought that she had lost the possibility of being stunned, but now she sat speechless as her father continued.
"I never was a competent business man and I put affairs in Eben's hands too late. He concealed from me how dire my straits were—and our income continued—but it was coming out of his resources—not mine. If Tollman had chosen to demand payment, we would have been wiped out."
"How long have you known this?"
"Since shortly after my affliction came upon me."
Conscience moved over and stood by the window. She pressed her temples with her finger tips and spoke in a dead quiet. "You have known—all that time—and you never told me. You have urged his suit and you never let me guess that my suitor had already—bought me and paid for me."