“No. Because there is so much—all, all that I have learnt during those fifty years, all that I hold most dear, most sacred——”
His voice died away. The Squire was not unmoved. He cleared his throat vigorously and said kindly:
“Take your time. This shall be threshed out fairly between us. Sit down! Keep your hands quiet, Ben. When you fidget, it distracts me.”
“I would rather stand, Sir Geoffrey.”
“Do as you please.” With indulgent irony he added, “The counsel for the defence addresses the Court standing.”
Fishpingle moved a little nearer. He spoke very slowly, as a man speaks who has some long-considered message to deliver.
“Master Lionel, before he went to India, did not expect to survive you.”
The Squire moved uneasily. Fishpingle had recalled cruel anxieties never quite forgotten, what may be termed the unpaid bills of life pigeon-holed, put aside for Fate and Fortune to settle. He replied, however, with decision:
“He has grown into a strong man.”
“Has he? Are you quite sure of that? I would give my life to be sure. He may live long if he marries the right woman. Is Lady Margot the right woman, Sir Geoffrey?”