What followed was even still more expressive, for it took for granted an intimacy between his son and niece, which up to that moment he had studiously ignored.
‘Did you know anything,’ he added, ‘my girl, of this surprise which your cousin had in store for us?’
‘I knew that there was something, uncle, though not from his lips. That is,’ she continued, with a faint flush, ‘I felt for days that there has been something upon William Henry’s mind, which I judged to be good news.—Was it not so, Willie?’
The young man bowed his head. The colour came into his face also. ‘How she must have watched him, and how rightly she had read his thoughts!’ was what he was saying to himself.
Mr. Erin took no notice of either of them; his mind had reverted to the new-found treasure.
‘Look at it, Dennis,’ he cried. ‘The seals and paper are quite as they should be. I have no doubt of its being a genuine deed of the time. Then the signature—there are only two others in all the world, but I do think—just take this microscope (his own hand trembled so that he could scarcely hold it)—there can be no mistake about it. It is without the “a,” but it can be proved that he spelt it indifferently; and again, the receipt has the “a,” an inconsistency which, in the case of a forgery, would certainly not have been overlooked. There can be no doubt of its being a genuine signature, can there?’
‘That is a matter on which you are infinitely better qualified to judge than I am, Mr. Erin,’ was the cautious rejoinder. ‘Perhaps you had better consult the autograph in Johnson and Steevens’s edition.’
‘Tush! Do you suppose that I have not every stroke and turn of it in my mind’s eye? Reach down the book, Maggie.’
Margaret, who knew where to lay her hand upon every book in her uncle’s library, made haste to produce the volume.
‘There, did not I tell you?’ said Mr. Erin triumphantly. ‘Look at the W, look at the S.’