“Send them to me—send them to me, quick, Severn, quick—I may die before I have accomplished the act of restitution.”
Sir Creighton put out his hand, the other man put his own right hand into it for a moment.
Sir Creighton went upstairs to the drawing-room where Josephine and Pierce were sitting with Lord Lullworth and Amber. Lady Gwendolen was still in her dressing-room.
Josephine started up at his entrance. She looked eagerly—enquiringly at him.
“He is in his study. He wants to see you both. Dear child, you have my congratulations—and you too, Winwood.”
Josephine was in Sir Creighton’s arms before he had finished speaking.
“We are starving. What has happened?” cried Amber with some awe in her voice, when Josephine and Pierce had disappeared.
“The time-fuse has burnt itself down—that’s all,” said her father. “Listen: you can almost hear Mr. West telling his daughter that his fondest wish has always been for her happiness, and that he is ready to sacrifice all his aspirations and ambitions in order that she may marry the man whom she loves. That is what he is saying just now.”
And, sure enough, that was exactly what Mr. West was saying at that moment.
“But the time-fuse?” said Amber.