"I see."
He seemed perplexed, uncertain evidently, how much to tell her. Ailsa understood, and was a little at a loss how to act herself.
"I should not have mentioned the fact to anyone else," she said, "as he evidently wishes to keep all personal matters entirely to himself; but, of course, you were very likely to know it. I also learnt from my husband that he was the elder brother and originally his uncle's heir, but something happened to cause Mr. Carew to change his mind."
Then Mr. Delcombe said thoughtfully, "I think there is no reason why I should not tell you a little more about him. I have always felt exceedingly sorry for his determined exile, and the isolation from all his old friends and old delights. I know that he dearly loved Devon, and one feels it is time now that he came back to try and pick up the threads. You and your husband appear to be his only friends, and as a distant connection you might be able to approach him upon a subject where a stranger, or shall we say a forgotten friend, would be diffident." He paused, then added, "I wonder if he has the remotest idea that, owing to several deaths, he is now the next heir to the Marquis of Toxeter?"
A sudden joy seemed to sweep Ailsa through and through, and her eyes shone, and she clasped and unclasped her hands with excitement as she breathed, "O, is that really true? It seems too good; too much like a story-book."
"Yes, it is a fact. Major Carew's family was a younger branch, and sixteen years ago it would never have entered anyone's head that the marquisate might fall to them. Time makes many changes, and three heirs have died in succession. The present marquis is old and has no children, therefore the next heir was Richard Fourtenay-Carew, also childless, and after him Major Carew's father. Richard Carew died very shortly after this man left England, and young Geoffrey Carew then succeeded to all his possessions. I believe something was left to Major Carew, but he refused to touch it. It is since then that (his uncle being dead) he has become the heir of the present marquis, and I think it highly probable he has no notion of the fact whatever."
"I am almost certain he has not," Ailsa intercepted, "for I think he would have mentioned it to my husband."
"Unfortunately there is very little money with the title, but he is not a man to trouble much about that; and, of course, the present marquis may live some time. But I have thought sometimes if he knew it might wipe out a little of the past bitterness. His brother robbed him of so much, but in the end it would seem Nature is making things even again. Geoffrey would give half his wealth to have the title, and I have reason to believe that it is a great bitterness to him to know that his brother, who cares nothing at all about it probably, must inevitably inherit it if he outlives the present owner."
"And you will tell him?..." eagerly.
"Perhaps. Or it may be that you!..." He hesitated, and looked at her thoughtfully.