'Yes,' said he, reddening, 'was no more likely to see such a provincial print in Devonshire than the Roman Diritto or the Prussian Kreuz Zeitung; and the Times, if he saw it—which I doubt—he must have ignored. Till the time of his death drew near, his feelings were bitter, his hostility to his family great.'
'I can well understand that, poor fellow!' said Mr. Kippilaw, glancing at his watch, as he added—'You must excuse me till to-morrow: I am already overdue at the Parliament House.'
He bowed his visitors out into the sun-lit square.
'You seem to have lost your tongue, Florian, and to have a disappointed look,' said Shafto snappishly, as they walked slowly towards the hotel together.
'Disappointed I am in one sense, perhaps, but I have no reason to repine or complain save at our change of relative positions, but certainly not at your unexpected good fortune, Shafto. It is only right and just that your father's only son should inherit all that is legally and justly his.'
Even at these words Shafto never winced or wavered in plans or purpose.
It was apparent, however, to Florian, that he had for some time past looked restless and uneasy, that he started and grew pale at any unusual sound, while a shadow rested on his not usually very open countenance.
Betimes next morning a note came to him at the Duke of Rothesay Hotel from Mr. Kippilaw, requesting a visit as early as possible, and on this errand he departed alone.
He found the old lawyer radiant, with a letter in his hand from Lord Fettercairn (in answer to his own) expressive of astonishment and joy at the sudden appearance of this hitherto unknown grandson, whom he was full of ardour and anxiety to see.
'You will lose no time in starting for Craigengowan,' said Mr. Kippilaw. 'You take the train at the Waverley Station and go viâ Burntisland, Arbroath, and Marykirk—or stay, I think we shall proceed together, taking your papers with us.'