‘I need hardly tell you that I shall be silent,’ said the lawyer in his most professional voice.
Fordyce had some of the instincts of a gentleman, and he hesitated a little before he could make up his mind to mention Cecilia’s name to a stranger like Barclay, but he was in such dire straits that a sympathizer was everything to him, and the fact that his companion knew so much of his uncle’s affairs made confidence seem safe. Besides which, he was not a quick reader of character.
‘You need not look upon me as a stranger,’ said the lawyer; ‘there is nothing that your uncle does not tell me.’
This half-truth seemed so plausible to Crauford that it opened the floodgates of his heart.
‘You know Miss Raeburn, of course,’ he began.
Barclay bowed and dropped his eyes ostentatiously. The action seemed to imply that he knew her more intimately than anyone might suppose.
‘She is a very exceptional young lady. I had made up my mind to propose to her.’
‘She has not a penny,’ broke in Barclay.
‘That is outside the subject,’ replied Fordyce, with something very much like dignity. ‘I wrote to my father, telling him of my intention, and yesterday I got his consent. He told me to expect a most liberal allowance, Mr. Barclay.’
‘Naturally, naturally; in your circumstances that would be a matter of course.’