The alcove was in pleasant shade this summer evening. Some one had asked leave of the others, and then had lowered the gas, to decrease the heat, as well as to subdue the light. The May moon, at its full, shone in through the open bay window, and softly illumined the interior, falling directly on the pale face of Abel Force, who occupied a large easy chair in the midst of his party, who were seated around him, waiting in eager attention for his words.
The squire of Mondreer began to speak in a somewhat formal manner.
“My friends,” he said, “I have asked you all to meet me here that I may explain to you some family matter that you have not hitherto understood, or rather, that you have entirely misunderstood up to this day.”
The squire paused in some embarrassment.
Miss Sibby took advantage of the momentary silence to nudge Miss Susannah Grandiere and whisper:
“I knowed it. Everything as is hid, sez I, is sure to come out, sez I; but it’s nothing ag’in Abel Force, whatever it is, sez I. I’ll bet on the old squire every time, sez I.”
Mr. Force went on:
“You have all taken—or seemed to take—much for granted in our lives which was not true. Now did you not?”
“Why—not that I know of, Force. I don’t know of any mistakes we any of us ever made about you,” exclaimed old Capt. Grandiere, answering for all his neighbors. “In what respect have we done you wrong?” he next inquired.
“In no respect have you done me wrong. You have only taken some things for granted and made some harmless mistakes.”