He seemed to sigh a little, while his hand closed on the bridle; and Maud Barrington fancied she understood his thoughts just then.
“Nobody can be always right, and the good years do not come alone,” she said. “You will plough every acre next one.”
Barrington smiled dryly. “I’m afraid that will be a little late, my dear. Any one can follow, but since, when everybody’s crop is good, the price comes down, the man who gets the prize is the one who shows the way.”
“He was content to face the risk,” said Miss Barrington.
“Of course,” said the Colonel quietly. “I should be the last to make light of his foresight and courage. Indeed, I am glad I can acknowledge it, in more ways than one, for I have felt lately that I am getting an old man. Still, there is one with greater capacities ready to step into my shoes; and though it was long before I could overcome my prejudice against him, I think I should now be content to let him have them. Whatever Lance may have been, he was born a gentleman, and blood is bound to tell.”
Maud Barrington, who was of a patrician parentage, and would not at one time have questioned this assertion, wondered why she felt less sure of it just then.
“But if he had not been, would not what he has done be sufficient to vouch for him?” she said.
Barrington smiled a little, and the girl felt that her question was useless as she glanced at him. He sat very straight in his saddle, immaculate in dress, with a gloved hand on his hip and a stamp which he had inherited, with the thinly-covered pride that usually accompanies it, from generations of a similar type, on his clean-cut face. It was evidently needless to look for any sympathy with that view from him.
“My dear,” he said, “there are things at which the others can beat us; but, after all, I do not think they are worth the most; and while Lance has occasionally exhibited a few undesirable characteristics, no doubt acquired in this country, and has not been always blameless, the fact that he is a Courthorne at once covers and accounts for a good deal.”
Then Witham recognized them, and made a sign to one of the men behind him as he hauled his binder clear of the wheat. He had dismounted in another minute and came towards them, with the jacket he had not wholly succeeded in struggling into loose about his shoulders.