“A woman of France.”
The baronet made a gesture of impatience, and looked searchingly at the young man.
All at once Gaston shot his bolt, to have it over. “She had Indian blood also.”
He stretched himself to his full height, easily, broadly, with a touch of defiance, and leaned an arm against the mantel, awaiting Sir William’s reply.
The old man shrank, then said coldly: “Have you the marriage-certificate?”
Gaston drew some papers from his pockets.
“Here, sir, with a letter from my father, and one from the Hudson’s Bay Company.”
His grandfather took them. With an effort he steadied himself, then opened and read them one by one, his son’s brief letter last—it was merely a calm farewell, with a request that justice should be done his son.
At that moment Falby entered and said:
“Her ladyship’s compliments, and all the guests have arrived, sir.”