"Come here, Brian; I want to tell you something," he says, as the young man leans over him.
"You are not to talk," says his nephew, peremptorily.
"If you won't listen to me, I'll send for Bailey, the steward," says the squire. "Nonsense! it does me good." And then he tells him all the particulars of Miss Priscilla's visit relating to his engagement with Katherine Beresford, with one reservation.
"It is all right between us now," he says, in a pleased tone. "She told me everything, and it appears we were both sadly taken in, though I don't wish to say anything against her even now. I daresay she had her own grievances, poor soul; and indeed Priscilla said——"
Here he pauses, and a guilty flush covers his pale face. He hesitates, and then beckons Brian to come even nearer.
"Look you, lad! I'm not quite at ease even yet. There's something wrong here!" laying his hand upon his heart.
"Is it pain?" asks his nephew, anxiously. "I told you you were talk——"
"No, no, boy. It's only mental pain. I want to be ashamed of myself, and I can't. I'm feeling a satisfaction about something that I shouldn't. It's not right, Brian. It's not a gentlemanly feeling, but I can't curb it. The more I think of it, the more pleased I feel. Eh? You don't look as if you understood me."
"I don't, much," confesses Brian, seating himself on the edge of the bed. "You see, you haven't told me what it is all about."
"It is about Katherine Beresford. Priscilla told me, and I should like to tell you. I say, Brian, you won't throw it in my teeth, now, when I'm better, eh?"