“But we can’t take it from that woman, Pownceby! Why, what are you thinking of? Receive from her, a person we all despise, a gift like this! Why, the thing is impossible! It is like her impertinence to offer it; and how you could think for a moment——”
Margaret, who had hastily taken up the paper and read the paragraph, here put it down again and laid her hand on her husband’s arm. “You must wait,” she said, “you must wait, Gerald, for what your father says.”
“The woman of the trial?” said Sir Francis, getting it with difficulty into his head, “the baggage that married poor Gervase, and made a fool of his father—that woman!” He added briskly, turning to his son: “I was always against that trial, you know I was. Don’t throw away good money after bad, I always said: let be; if we don’t get it in the course of nature we’ll never get it, was what I always said. You know I always said it. Those costs which you ran up in spite of me, almost broke my heart.”
There was a pause, and then Colonel Piercey said with a half laugh, “We all know, father, that you did not like the costs.”
“I said so!” said Sir Francis, “I was always against it. I thought the woman might turn out better than you supposed. A very remarkable thing, Mr. Pownceby, don’t you think it’s a very remarkable thing? after she had won her cause and had everything her own way. Do you recall to memory ever having heard of a similar incident? I never did in all my experience; a very extraordinary thing indeed!”
“No,” said Mr. Pownceby, “no; I don’t think I ever did hear anything like it. They generally stick to what they have got like grim death.”
“I think that must be rather a remarkable woman,” said Sir Francis; “I retract anything I may have been induced to say of her in a moment of annoyance. I consider she has acted very creditably, very—very—I may say nobly, Mr. Pownceby. I beg that I may never hear a word in her disparagement from any of you. I hope that we might all be capable of doing anything so—so—magnanimous and high-minded ourselves.”
“But, father,” cried Colonel Piercey, “we can’t surely accept a gift like this from a woman we know nothing of—whom we’ve no esteem for—whom we’ve prosecuted—whom——”
“Not accept it, sir?” cried Sir Francis—“not accept a righteous restitution? I should like to know on what principle we could refuse it? If a man had taken your watch from you, would you refuse to take it if he brought it back? Why, what would that be but to discourage every good impulse? I shall certainly accept it. And I hope, Mr. Pownceby, that you will convey my thanks—yes, my thanks, and very high appreciation to this young lady. I think she is doing a very noble thing. Whether I benefited by it or not, I should think it a very noble thing. Don’t be stingy in your praise, sir! It’s noble to say you’ve been wrong—many haven’t the strength of mind to do it. I’ll drink her very good health at dinner. We’ll have a toast, do you hear?”
“Yes, Grandpapa,” cried Osy, always ready; “and shall it be with what Cousin Colonel calls the honours? You give the name, and I’ll stand up upon a chair and do the ‘Hip, hip, hurrah!’ ”