“You distress yourself needlessly,” said Mr Cunningham, stiffly still, but not unkindly. “I was justified, I think, in taking time to consider. I greatly regret Alwyn’s American connections. But you are quite right in feeling that I should not now be justified in diverting the property from the direct line. That will I spoke of has been destroyed for some weeks.”
“I did not mean to distrust you, father,” said Edgar. “I knew that you would see it so, but you will let people know that it is so.”
“Did your brother know that you meant to speak to me?”
“No, oh no! We have never touched on the subject.”
“Don’t distress yourself,” said Mr Cunningham; “I will take opportunities. Here is Alwyn coming.”
Perhaps Alwyn thought the echo of the voices through the window a little too eager, for he came out with an anxious look at Edgar, making an excuse of pushing the couch more into the shade.
“Alwyn,” said Mr Cunningham, “my agent has been making a proposal to pull down the cottages and farm-buildings on Ashurst Farm, and throw it into one concern with Croppings. What do you think?”
“I—really, sir—I cannot judge,” said Alwyn, turning round and considerably startled at this appeal.
“I shouldn’t wish to do it if you disliked the notion. Perhaps, if Edgar does not want you, you would walk down with me and look at the place.”
“Go—go,” whispered Edgar. “Go with him at once.”