The old lord’s head sank upon his breast; his eyes were dim with a sudden moisture.
‘I loved her, Peebles—I loved her!’
‘And yet ye played that deil’s trick on her, with the aid o’ yon scoundrel Blake.’
‘How could I marry one so much my inferior?’ asked Kilpatrick tremulously.
‘And yet there are moments when I think that if—if she had not—if she had had a little more patience, I might have done it. There, there,’ he continued, with his usual testiness, ‘let it sleep. Don’t talk about it. As for Desmond, I have brought him up almost like my own son and heir. He has wanted nothing—he shall never want. I shall provide for him in my will.’
‘Grandly, no doot,’ said Peebles, with the abrupt snort which was his laugh, ‘with Mr. Conseltine at your lug, pleading for that smug-faced imp, his son.’
‘Desmond shan’t be forgotten,’ said Kilpatrick. ‘Nothing on earth shall make me forget Desmond.’
‘There’s just a chance,’ said Peebles, after an interval of silence, scraping at his chin—‘there’s just a chance that Desmond, when he kens ye’re his father, will refuse to tak’ a shilling o’ your money. I know the lad, for isn’t he like the child o’ my ain old age—haven’t I watched over him and seen him grow—haven’t I had daily to lie to him, and tell him that he has neither father nor mother, but only a kind friend who knew them both—and haven’t I heard his voice break when he has asked of his dead mother? Man alive!’ he continued, in answer to Kilpatrick’s stricken look, ‘do your duty—acknowledge your son before the world! If anything can get ye a free pass through the gates of heaven, it will be a deed like that!’
‘Gad!’ said Kilpatrick, ‘I’ve a mind to do it, if only to spite my brother Dick. Peebles, do you think I’m a fool? Do you think I don’t know Dick Conseltine? He’s looking forward to my funeral. He wants the estate for young spindleshanks, my nephew. Suppose I showed him a trick worth two of that, eh? Ha, ha!’
His lordship’s rather spiteful chuckle was cut short by a rap at the door.