“Maybe she will bring some help with her,” said his lady.
The selfish old man laughed bitterly.
“She brings herself and her girl—a pretty help in times like these. Thank God, there is no room in the house for them!”
“You forget they cannot have heard of our losses. When last they heard of us we had received Gorman’s money for the mortgage, and were in comfort. It is since then that all has been confiscated.”
“That mortgage was robbery itself,” said Mr Lestrange. “Gorman knew I was hard hit, and not likely to stand out for a bargain, and he took advantage of it. The estates are worth treble what he gave.”
“That is past and gone,” said the lady. “We must be patient. Perhaps Felix will help us.”
“My nephew is a selfish man,” said the old gentleman; “besides, he has but his pay. And now he has no expectations from us we need not expect him to come near us.”
All this talk went on while Biddy and I stood near, hearing it all. At last the sturdy Biddy could stand it no longer.
“Hoot! take shame to yourself, Mr Lestrange. Thank God you’re not one of the fifty that ride in the tumbrel the morrow; thank God you’ve got a sweet wife that will bear with your grumblings; and thank God you’ve got a body like me that’s not afraid to tell you what I think of yez. Hold yer tongue now, and get to your beds.”
Biddy, as I learned later on, had stuck of her own accord to her master and mistress through all their troubles, and presumed on her position to take her chicken-hearted lord severely to task when, like to-night, the grumbling fit was upon him.