‘Oh,’ said Lord Will, quite confused; what between the transference of the heirship, the inattention of his friend to his plea that his father was the head of the family, which to himself seemed to be a condition of importance, and the extremely big word that Leo had used, this young man, who was not clever, but who was not at all a bad fellow notwithstanding the mission in which his dull intelligence had not seen any harm, was quite bewildered, and did not know what to think.
‘Yes,’ said Leo, ‘I don’t know much about English law, but Mab no doubt would be the heir; and any reasoning brought to bear upon her to make her accept a portion of her natural right in place of the whole, would be the same, I presume, as if you had stolen so much from her.’
‘Oh, stolen! rubbish!’ cried Lord Will; then he explained ingenuously, ‘there was to be no reasoning brought to bear; I was to inform them simply that Uncle John had left—a legacy.’
‘That would have been what I believe is called in English—lying.’
‘Swinford! you mean, I think, to make me forget that I am your guest, in your house.’
‘In French,’ said Leo, taking no notice, ‘it is called mensonge, and has sometimes interpretations more or less favourable. When you save your mother’s reputation or your father’s honour, as it is called, mensonge is the word, and you are not judged too severely; but I have always heard that in England to lie was the worst offence.’
Lord Will was a little stupid, and therefore very placable. But this stung him to the quick. He knew what a lie meant, and though he felt a resistance and profound objection in himself to accept that dreadful word as representing his action, still, he felt there was a horrible resemblance between his intentions and that theory. Certainly the legacy would have been a lie. He did not see that though he had come to say this, he had already in the frankness which was far deeper down in his nature than any intention of guilt, committed himself to the actual truth. No consciousness of that fact softened his sensations. What Leo said was true. He had come not only to say but to act a lie.
‘You’re tremendously severe,’ he said. ‘I should knock you down by rights for hinting at such a thing.’
‘Yes, you might,’ said Leo, ‘and you could if you liked. You are bigger than I am; but I don’t see what difference that would make.’
‘I don’t either,’ said Lord Will. And then there was a pause; he was not clear enough in his mind to stop there. ‘But if this,’ he said, ‘that Mrs. Swinford tells me is true——’