I suppressed the easy retort, and my father continued—
"If you have not your father's public mind, I am sorry; but your private interests are safe enough, and Temple Belwood will be yours without encumbrance on a single acre."
Again I was amazed and mute.
"Ryther is engaged to return the deeds to you on the day you wed his daughter."
Now I understood mysteries; Ryther's insolence at dinner, for one, and his daughter's manner, for another. My father had squandered money in a business which was no more his than that of any gentleman in the Isle, assured that all damage to the estate would be repaired by this absurd covenant of marriage. The Vavasour patrimony was lost, and all the ceremony and merrymaking of the day had been in honour of the heir of—Nothing.
The state of things was maddening and yet laughable, and laughter would have its way. I shook with it.
"What in the world is there to laugh at?" shouted my father.
"God knows, I don't," I answered, still laughing.
It was my father's turn to be astonished. He gazed doubtfully at me until my fit was over. Then he said—
"You have taken too much wine. We will speak of this business when sleep has sobered you." And he went off to bed.