“Yes, thank you, you have taken a great weight off my mind.”
“You cough,” said Alvar, after a few moments; “the weather is getting too cold for you.”
“I thought,” said Cherry, forcing himself to take advantage of the excuse, “that I would go to the sea for a little while before the winter.”
“Yes; where shall we go?” said Alvar, in a tone of interest. “Look,” he continued, with wonderful candour; “here we vex each other because we do not think the same. We are angry with each other; but we will come away, and I will take care of you. Then you shall go to London, and I shall come back, and you will see, I will yet be the squire. Where shall we go, mi caro?”
It was almost a dismissal, and so Cheriton felt it to be; but after all it was his own decision, and the return of Alvar’s old kindness was very comfortable to him.
“I had hardly thought about that,” he said.
“Well,” returned Alvar, “we can talk about it. Now, it is cold here in the window; come nearer to the fire and rest till dinner-time.”
As Cheriton sat up and looked out at the stormy sunset, he saw little Chris Fleming coming up the path that led round to the back door.
“Ah,” said Alvar cheerfully, following his eyes, “I do not wish to punish that boy any more. He has had enough, that little rascal.”
Evidently, Alvar’s conscience was quite at ease, and he did not suppose that he had in any way compromised himself. He began to perceive that Alvar had his own ideas as to what would make him really master of Oakby.