“John Parke!” both the old people cried again; Mrs. Hill adding in almost a shriek—“And Tisch—Tisch, who hates my poor Mary, who would like to kill her! Oh, you will never put the boy in her hands.”
“I fail to see,” said the vicar, mumbling. “I fail to see what can be the need of John Parke when her parents are here.”
“My dear sir,” said the man of business, “John Parke is the nearest relation. He’s an executor. He’s the heir, if anything should happen to the little boy—a very delicate little boy I hear, like old men’s children generally—and with insanity on one side. You really must forgive me if I speak my mind. I have been connected with the Parkes, I and my firm, for longer than any one can say; but I never knew such a sad conjunction of affairs.”
The Hills, it was evident, were very much startled by this speech. The vicar stood before the fire swaying his heavy head, looking at the floor, while Mrs. Hill, who was more active of mind, made little starts as if to begin speaking, then stopped with the words on her lips.
“Do you mean to say,” said Agnes, “that everything will be in—Mr. John Parke’s hands?”
“I am the other executor,” said the man of business, not without a little demonstration of the importance which these country people had seemed to ignore.
“But,” said the vicar, “we are Lady Frogmore’s parents—I am the child’s grandfather, nearer than an uncle. Why, my wife was here when he was born.”
“And we have no object to serve,” cried Mrs. Hill, bursting forth, “none, none, but their good. It’s for John Parke’s advantage that—that harm should come. He can’t be supposed to be fond of little Mar. And his wife—why Tisch, Tisch, everybody knows!—she has her own boy that she thinks ought to be the heir. He’s not safe, he’s not safe if he’s in Tisch Grocombe’s hands!”
“Mother, mother!” cried Agnes, in dismay.
“You will excuse me saying,” said the lawyer, “that I can’t listen to anything of this kind. Ladies go a long way I know in what they permit themselves to say of each other, but with men of the world, madam, libels can’t be indulged in. Mrs. John Parke——”