At that moment Gaston's eyes caught the strange picture on the wall.
"I understand," he answered. "But I would be starting in the middle of a story."
"You mean that you wish to hear your father's history? Did he not tell you?"
"Trifles—that is all."
"Did he ever speak of me?" asked Lady Belward with low anxiety.
"Yes, when he was dying."
"What did he say?"
"He said: 'Tell my mother that Truth waits long, but whips hard. Tell her that I always loved her.'" She shrank in her chair as if from a blow, and then was white and motionless.
"Let us hear your story," Sir William said with a sort of hauteur.
"You know your own, much of your father's lies buried with him."
"Very well, sir."