“Guy, I must make you understand once for all that I am not going to act under the will which Aunt Waynflete meant to destroy. I won’t profit by it, and it is important to me just now that every one should know that I regard it as a dead letter. I’ve thought the matter out—the thing must be done legally; I shall execute a deed of gift which will give Waynflete and the money left with it to you and your heirs for ever. And I will have nothing more to do with it. That is one thing.”
“And what is the next?” said Guy.
“As to the business, I quite see the difference made by the bad times, and poor returns. I suppose we want more capital. There’s young Mat Palmer. If you offered him a partnership, he might put money into the concern, and would do the work as well. As for me, of course any profits that come from my shares under the first will are fairly mine, as I must bear any loss also. And I don’t wish to cut myself out of the concern. But I want to know exactly how I stand, on that footing.”
“Well,” said Guy, “anything else?”
“Yes; I have practically engaged myself to marry Jeanie Palmer. I made a great mistake last summer in—in—what then passed. That’s over, but I must know, of course, exactly what I’m liable for here, before I can honourably speak to old Matthew.”
“Anything more?” said Guy again.
“No,” said Godfrey, with some dignity. “That’s what I had to say.”
“And what,” said Guy, “do you suppose are the profits of the Waynflete estate which you’re going to give me?”
“I suppose it has a value.”
“Godfrey,” said Guy, suddenly, “I beg your pardon. I did not mean to take this tone at all. But I too have a great deal to say, and it’s hard. I—I’m not strong, you know, and you must be very patient with me while I tell you. And first, I want you to answer me one or two questions.”