“Then,” she said, “what I can give is yours—and it seems you have already taken possession.”
Witham drew her towards him, and it may have been by Miss Barrington’s arranging that nobody entered the hall, but at last the girl glanced up at the man half-shyly as she said, “Why did you wait so long?”
“It was well worth while,” said Witham. “Still, I think you know.”
“Yes,” said Maud Barrington softly. “Now, at least, I can tell you I am glad you went away—but if you had asked me I would have gone with you.”
It was some little time later when Miss Barrington came in and, after a glance at Witham, kissed her niece. Then she turned to the man. “My brother is asking for you,” she said. “Will you come up with me?”
Witham followed her, and hid his astonishment when he found Colonel Barrington lying in a big chair. His face was haggard and pale, his form seemed to have grown limp and fragile, and the hand he held out trembled.
“Lance,” he said, “I am very pleased to have you home again. I hear you have done wonders in the city, but you are, I think, the first of your family who could ever make money. I have, as you will see, not been well lately.”
“I am relieved to find you better than I expected, sir,” Witham said quietly. “Still, I fancy you are forgetting what I told you the night I went away.”
Barrington nodded, and then made a little impatient gesture. “There was something unpleasant, but my memory seems to be going, and my sister has forgiven you. I know you did a good deal for us at Silverdale, and showed yourself a match for the best of them in the city. That pleases me. By and by, you will take hold here after me.”
Witham glanced at Miss Barrington, who smiled somewhat sadly.