“Shall I go over to Saint Kitt’s and fetch Mr Lawyer Dancer, sir?” said Humphrey.
“Say no more about it, for Heaven’s sake!” exclaimed Richard. “I want no advice—I want nothing—only this, Humphrey, that you will forgive those old people—my—my parents. Let them have money to the end of their days, even if it is not deserved.”
“Oh, but Master Richard.”
“And promise me that you will not allow any prosecution and punishment to be held over their heads.”
“Is it likely, Master Richard?” said Humphrey, laughing.
“Now let me have a few hours to myself, to collect my thoughts, and write a few letters.”
Humphrey leaped from his chair.
“’Bout draining the little meadow, sir?” he said. “Shall I set the men on? The tiles is come.”
Richard’s face contracted with pain, and then a bitter smile crossed it.
“My dear Humphrey,” he said, taking his hand, “can you not realise your position? You are master here.”