"Nothing that should depress one on such a wonderful day. It is more a state of mind than anything. You and I, I fancy, were both born a few hundred years too late."
"Money again?"
He nodded.
"It is one of the most humiliating features of modern existence," he declared, "to find the course of one's daily life interfered with by the paltry necessities of pounds, shillings and pence. One inherits a great name," he went on ruminatively, "great traditions, an estate brimful of associations with illustrious ancestors. In one's daily life one's sense of dignity, one's whole position, is all the time affected, I may say poisoned, by the lack of that one commodity which is neither a proof of greatness or even deserving. We are very poor indeed, Letitia."
She sighed.
"Is it anything fresh?"
"Mr. Merridrew has been here this morning," her father continued, "and has spoken to me very seriously about the condition of the whole estate. No repairs or rebuilding have been effected for years. The whole of the rents, as they have been received, have been required to pay interests on the mortgages. Mr. Merridrew adds that he scarcely dare show himself before any one of the tenants, to whose just demands he is continually promising attention. He considers that unless the whole of the next quarter's rents are spent in making repairs, we shall lose our tenants and the property itself will be immensely deteriorated."
"There are those shares that Mr. Thain sold you," she reminded him hopefully.
"You must take this for what it is worth," he said. "I have a private letter from Mr. Wadham himself this morning, in which he tells me frankly that he has received reports indicating that those shares are worthless."
"Worthless?" Letitia exclaimed, bewildered.