“I’ve been too hasty, my boy. I was very ill, and I did what I should not have done in calmer moments.”
There was a pause, and Sam waited, wondering what was to come next.
“You remember my sending for your cousin to come up?”
“Yes, father; you sent me away on business,” said Sam, in rather a sneering tone, “so as to get me out of the way, but I heard all about it afterwards.”
“All about it?” said his father, with an anxious look.
“I suppose so,” replied Sam carelessly.
“No, my boy, you did not,” said his father, leaning forward and taking his son by the coat as he spoke in a very low voice. “The fact is, Sam, while I was ill and low-spirited I got a number of curious fancies into my head—half-delirious, I suppose—about some deeds and documents left in my charge by your aunt, Tom Blount’s mother, when she died.”
“Yes?” said Sam, growing interested now.
“I fancied somehow, my boy, that it was my duty to give those deeds up to your cousin; and though I fought against it for some time, the idea grew too strong for me, and I felt that I must send for him and give them over into his charge.”
“Were they his by rights, father?” said Sam sharply.