"I have, father. I will be heard!"
"Very well; I hold to what I promised. Perhaps," he laughed bitterly, "perhaps I may think of the possibility of Anthony obtaining my forgiveness. Yes," said he, as a sudden access of better feeling rushed over him, as in his mind's eye the form of his handsome son rose up before him; "yes, let him come to me as the prodigal son, and speak like the prodigal, and desert his swine-husks, and then I will kill the fatted calf and bring forth the ring."
Still the same. He could see no fault in himself—no error in his treatment of his son.
Bessie would have answered, but that the door was thrust open, and in came Fox, agitated, angry, alarmed.
"What is the meaning of this?" he shouted, addressing the Squire, regardless of the presence of Bessie. "What is this about? Here is that fellow—that man from Exeter—here again at the door, with two others—and——"
"And what?"
"He says they are bailiffs, come to take possession."
"What! to-day! Then, son-in-law, you must pay them off. I cannot. Save Hall for yourself."