"Mr. Griffith," Randolph said, "we must think of the present and the future, not of the past. But if the trust is unwelcome, do not undertake it."
"The trust is not unwelcome, Randolph," observed the chaplain, with a slight accent of reproof. "The sadness of which our friend speaks is caused by the lightness, not the oppressiveness, of our duty. We promised to undertake it, and we shall feel pleasure in fulfilling it, so as most effectually to promote your welfare in every respect."
"I know it," said the heir. "I am sure of it; I did not mean to doubt Mr. Griffith's good will."
"Here," the steward said, opening one of his books, "here are the accounts of the last few years: and here is an abstract or estimate, which I have prepared from them, showing the probable receipts and the necessary expenses for the future."
Randolph took the paper from Mr. Griffith's hands, and perused it attentively, his sister also looking over him.
"From this," he said at length, "I perceive that our total income is something under seven hundred pounds a year, and the needful outgoings something more than two; leaving us a clear revenue of four hundred. Why, Helen, we are rich!"
"They are young," the steward observed aside to Polydore.
The brother and sister conferred together for a few minutes in an under tone. Then Randolph spoke aloud:—
"Mr. Riches, the expenditure of the castle household, as here set down, is very small. Surely it does not include—" He stopped.
"I know what you would say, Randolph," the chaplain remarked. "The services of Mr. Griffith and myself have already been remunerated far in advance. There is nothing due on our account, nor will there be for a long time."