“Nothing so good. In fact I doubt if you will think it good at all. I have been consulting this same solicitor about the title-deeds; that cheese you let fall, you know,” he added, stroking her hand, and speaking so gently that the very irony was rather pleasant.
“Oh, it is very bad.”
“Now wouldn’t you like to hear it was so bad that I should have to sell out, and go to the diggings to make it up?”
“Now, Alick, if it were not for your sake, you know I should like—”
“I know you would; but you see, unfortunately, it was not a cheese at all, only a wooden block that the fox ran away with. Lawyers don’t put people’s title-deeds into such dangerous keeping, the true cheese is safe locked up in a tin-box in Mr. Martin’s chambers in London.”
“Then what did I give Mauleverer?”
“A copy kept for reference down here.” Rachel hid her face.
“There, I knew you would think it no good news, and it is just a thunder-clap to me. All you wanted me for was to defend the mother and make up to the charity, and now there’s no use in me,” he said in a disconsolate tone.
“Oh, Alick, Alick, why am I so foolish?”
“Never mind; I took care Martin should not know it. Nobody is aware of the little affair but our two selves; and I will take care the fox learns the worth of his prize. Only now, Rachel, answer me, is there any use left for me still?”