There fell a dead silence again.
“I will do it, sir,” said his son. “It—it is but decent.”
And in the moment of profound astonishment that fell, he came straight across the room, passed by them all without turning his head, and went out.
Beatrice felt a fierce emotion grip her throat as she looked after him, and saw the door close. Then Margaret seized her again, and she turned to quiet her.
She was aware that Sir James had gone out after his son, after a moment of silence, and she heard his footsteps pass along the flags outside.
“Oh! God bless him!” sobbed Margaret.
Sir James came back immediately, shook his head, went across the room, and sat down in the seat that Ralph had left. A dreadful stillness fell. Margaret was quiet now. Mary was sitting with her husband on the other side of the hearth. Chris rose presently and sat down by his father, but no one spoke a word.
Then Nicholas got up uneasily, came across the room, and stood with his back to the hearth warming himself. Beatrice saw him glance now and again to the shadowed window-seat where the two men sat; he hummed a note or two to himself softly; then turned round and stared at the fire with outstretched hands.
The bell rang for prayers, and still without a word being spoken they all got up and went out.
In the same silence they came back. Ralph’s servant was standing by the door as they entered.