When they were gone, and the rock was left to the parties most interested in an explanation, Marmaduke, pointing to the aged Major Effingham, said to his grand son:
“Had we not better remove thy parent from this open place until my carriage can arrive?”
“Pardon me, sir, the air does him good, and he has taken it whenever there was no dread of a discovery. I know not how to act, Judge Temple; ought I, can I suffer Major Effingham to become an inmate of your family?”
“Thou shalt be thyself the judge,” said Marmaduke. “Thy father was my early friend. He intrusted his fortune to my care. When we separated he had such confidence in me that he wished on security, no evidence of the trust, even had there been time or convenience for exacting it. This thou hast heard?”
“Most truly, sir,” said Edwards, or rather Effingham as we must now call him.
“We differed in politics. If the cause of this country was successful, the trust was sacred with me, for none knew of thy father's interest, if the crown still held its sway, it would be easy to restore the property of so loyal a subject as Colonel Effingham. Is not this plain?'”
“The premises are good, sir,” continued the youth, with the same incredulous look as before.
“Listen—listen, poy,” said the German, “Dere is not a hair as of ter rogue in ter het of Herr Tchooge.”
“We all know the issue of the struggle,” continued Marmaduke, disregarding both. “Thy grandfather was left in Connecticut, regularly supplied by thy father with the means of such a subsistence as suited his wants. This I well knew, though I never had intercourse with him, even in our happiest days. Thy father retired with the troops to prosecute his claims on England. At all events, his losses must be great, for his real estates were sold, and I became the lawful purchaser. It was not unnatural to wish that he might have no bar to its just recovery.”
“There was none, but the difficulty of providing for so many claimants.”