Mr. Culpepper walked to the window and stood there looking out for full three minutes without uttering a word. Then he turned and beckoned Tom to go to him.
“Bristow,” he said, laying his hand affectionately on Tom’s shoulder, “as I said before, you are a gentleman—a gentleman in mind and feeling. More than that a man cannot be, whether his family be old or new. You propose to do a certain thing which I can only accede to on one condition.”
“Name it, sir,” said Tom briefly.
“I cannot take Knockley Holt from you without giving you something like an equivalent in return. Now, I only possess one thing that you would care to receive at my hands—and that is the most precious thing I have on earth. Exchange is no robbery. I will agree to take back Knockley Holt from you, if you will take in exchange for it—my daughter Jane.”
“Oh! Mr. Culpepper.”
“That you love her, I know already, and I dare say the sly hussy is equally as fond of you. If such be the case, take her. I know no man who so thoroughly deserves her, or who has so much right to her as you have.”
CHAPTER XI.
THE EIGHTH OF MAY.
The eighth of May had come round at last.
Of all days in the year this was the one that Kester St. George intended least to spend at Park Newton, but, as circumstances fell out, he could not well avoid doing so.
After the death and burial of Mother Mim—the expenses of the last-named ceremony being defrayed out of Kester’s pocket—it had been his intention to leave Park Newton at once and for ever. But it so fell out that in the document purloined by him from the pocket of Skeggs when that individual lay dead on the moor, there was given the name of a certain person, still living, who could depose, of his own personal knowledge, to the truth of the facts as put down in the dying woman’s confession. This person was the only witness to the facts there stated who was now alive. The name of the man in question was William Bendall, and the point that Kester had now to clear up was: Who was this William Bendall, and where was he to be found? There was no address given in the Confession, nor any hint as to the man’s whereabouts; but Skeggs had doubtless known where he was to be found, and had, in fact, told Kester that he could put his hand on the man at a day’s notice.