It never occurred to him to ask himself if there were any children who might be affected.
The man who presently came in to keep his appointment with Martin remarked afterwards that he had never known Mr. Nelthorp so hard and determined in bargaining as he was that evening.
When the bargaining was done Martin Nelthorp got on his horse and rode home to his comfortable fireside. It was always a pleasure to him to get under his own roof-tree after a long day on the land or an afternoon at market or auction. There was the evening meal in company with his nephew; the easy-chair and the newspaper afterwards; the pipe of tobacco and the glass of toddy before going to bed. And Old Martin and Young Martin, as most folk thereabouts were well aware, were more like companions than uncle and nephew; they had many tastes in common—hunting, shooting, sport in general, and the younger man was as keen a farmer as the elder. There was therefore no lack of company nor of conversation round the parlour fire at the Manor Farm.
But on this particular night, for the first time since either of them could remember, there was an unusual silence and restraint round the supper-table. Both men as a rule were good trenchermen—a life in the open air helped them to hearty and never-failing appetite. This night neither ate much, and neither seemed disposed to talk much. Old Martin knew why he himself was silent, and why he was not inclined to food—he was too full of the Sutton affair. But he wondered what made his nephew so quiet, and why he did not replenish his plate after his usual fashion. As for Young Martin he had his own thoughts to occupy him, but he, too, wondered what made the elder so obviously thoughtful.
Old Martin remained quiet and meditative all the evening. He held the newspaper in his hands, but he was not always reading it. He had his favourite pipe between his lips, but he let it go out more than once. Young Martin was similarly preoccupied. He affected to read the Mark Lane Express, but he was more often staring at the ceiling than at the printed page. It was not until after nine o'clock, at which hour they generally began to think of bed, that any conversation arose between them. Young Martin started it, and with obvious confusion and diffidence.
"There's a matter I wanted to mention to you to-night, Uncle Martin," he said. "Of course, I won't speak of it if you've aught serious to be thinking of, but you know I never keep aught back from you, and——"
"What is it, my lad?" asked the elder man. "Speak out—I was only just studying about a business matter—it's naught."
Young Martin's diffidence increased. He shuffled his feet, became very red, and opened and shut his mouth several times before he could speak.
"It's like this," he said at last. "If you've no objection I should like to get married."
Old Martin started as if he had been shot. He stared at his nephew as though he had said that he was going to fly.