“Well, now, Patrick, while we have a few moments to ourselves, I want to know what you mean to do about that ten thousand pounds?”
“I am sure, Ellen, it is more than I can tell you.”
“You will have to pay it, you know.”
“I suppose so, some day. I'll speak to Dan to-night. He is the last man to be hard on a chap.”
“Some more of the land must go,” said the wife in a fretful tone. “Our rent-roll will be still smaller. There will be still less money to educate Terence. I had set my heart on his going to Cambridge or Oxford. You quite forget that he is eighteen now.”
“Cambridge or Oxford!” said the Squire. “Not a bit of it. My son shall either go to Old Trinity or he does without a university education. Cambridge or Oxford indeed! You forget, Ellen, that the lad is my son as well as yours.”
“I don't; but he is half an Englishman, three parts an Englishman, whatever his fatherhood,” said the Squire's wife in a tone of triumph.
“Well, well! he is Terence O'Shanaghgan, for all that, and he will inherit this old place some day.”
“Much there will be for him to inherit.”
Eager steps were heard on the gravel, and the next instant Nora entered by the open window.