"Your mother swam like a--Naiad, was it--or Nereid?--I forget--d.a.m.n it!"

"I don't know the difference in their swimming."

"Nor any other difference, I dare say!"

"I know the one was a nymph of the sea, the other of a river."

"Oh! you know Greek, then?"

"I wish I did, sir: I was not long enough at school. I had to learn a trade and be independent."

"By Jove, I wish I knew a trade and was independent! But you shall learn Greek, my boy! There will be some good in teaching _you_! _I_ never learned anything?--But how the deuce do you know about Naiads and Nereids and all that bosh, if you don't know Greek?"

"I know my Keats, sir. I had to plough with his heifer though--use my _Lempriere_, I mean!"

"Good heavens!" said the baronet, who knew as little of Keats as any Lap.--"I wish I had been content to take you with all your ugliness, and bring you up myself, instead of marrying Lot's widow!"

Richard fancied he preferred the bringing up he had had, but he said nothing. Indeed he could make nothing of the whole business. How was it that, if sir Wilton had done his mother no wrong, his mother was the wife of John Tuke? He was bewildered.

"You wouldn't like to learn Greek, then?" said his father.

"Yes, sir; indeed I should!"

"Why don't you say so then? I never saw such a block! I say you _shall_ learn Greek!--Why do you stand there looking like a dead oyster?"

"I beg your pardon, sir! May I have the other cheque?"

"What other cheque?"

"The cheque there for my brother and sister, sir," answered Richard, pointing to it where the baronet had laid it, on the other side of him.

"Brother and sister!"

"The Mansons, sir," persisted Richard.

"Oh, give them the cheque and be d.a.m.ned to them! But remember they're no brother and sister of yours, and must never be alluded to as such, or as persons you have any knowledge of. When you've given them that,"--he pointed to the cheque which still lay beside him--"you drop their acquaintance."

"That I cannot do, sir."

"There's a good beginning now! But I might have expected it!--You tell me to my face you won't do what I order you?"

"I can't, sir; it wouldn't be right."

"Fiddlesticks!--Wouldn't be right! What's that to you? It's my business.

You've got to do what I tell you."

"I must go by my conscience, sir."

"Oh, d.a.m.n your conscience! Will you promise, or will you not? You're to have nothing to say to those young persons."

"I will not promise."

"Not if I promise to look after them?"

"No, sir." His father was silent for a moment, regarding him--not all in anger.

"Well, you're a good-plucked one, I allow? But you're the greatest fool, the dullest young a.s.s out, notwithstanding. You won't suit me--though you are web-footed!--Why, d.a.m.n it, boy! don't you understand yet that I'm your father?"

"Mrs. Manson told me so, sir."

"Oh, rot Mrs. Manson! she told you a d.a.m.ned lie! She told you I wronged your mother! I tell you I married her! What a blockhead you are! Look there, with your miserable tradesman's-eyes: all those books will be yours one day!--to put in the fire if you like, or mend at from morning to night, just as you choose! You fool! Ain't you my son, heir to Mortgrange, and whatever I may choose to give you besides!"

Richard's heart gave a bound as if it would leap to heaven. It was not the land; it was not the money; it was not the books; it was not even Barbara; it was Arthur and Alice that made it bound. But the voice of his father went on.

"You know now, you idiot," it said, "why you can have nothing more to do with that cursed litter of Mansons!"

Richard's heart rose to meet the heartlessness of his father.

"They are my brother and sister, sir!" he said.

"And what the devil does it matter to you if they are! It's my business that, not yours! You had nothing to do with it! You didn't make the Mansons!"

"No, sir; but G.o.d made us all, and says we're to love our brethren."

"Now don't you come the pious over me! It won't pay here! Mind you, n.o.body heard me acknowledge you! By the mighty heavens, I will deny knowing anything about you! You'll have to prove to the court of chancery that you're my son, born in wedlock, and kidnapped in infancy: by Jove, you'll find it stiff! Who'll advance you the money to carry it there?--you can't do it without money. n.o.body; the property's not entailed, and who cares whether it be sir Richard or sir Arthur? What's the t.i.tle without the property! But don't imagine I should mind telling a lie to keep the two together. I'm not a nice man; I don't mind lying!

I'm a bad man!--that I know better than you or any one else, and you'll find it uncomfortable to differ and deal with me both at once!"

"I will not deny my own flesh and blood," said Richard.

"Then I will deny mine, and you may go rot with them."

"I will work for them and myself," said Richard.

Sir Wilton glared at him. Richard made a stride to the table. The baronet caught up the cheque. Richard darted forward to seize it. Was his truth to his friends to be the death of them? He _would_ have the money! It was his! He had told him to take it!

What might have followed I dare not think. Richard's hands were out to lay hold on his father, when happily he remembered that he had not given him back the former cheque, and Ba.r.s.et was quite within reach of his grandfather's pony! He turned and made for the door. Sir Wilton read his thought.

"Give me that cheque," he cried, and hobbled to the bell.

Richard glanced at the lock of the door: there was no key in it! Besides there were two more doors to the room! He darted out: there was the man, far off down the pa.s.sage, coming to answer the bell! He hastened to meet him.

"Jacob," he said, "sir Wilton rang for you: just run down with me to the gate, and give the woman there a message for me."

He hurried to the door, and the man, nothing doubting, followed him.

"Tell her," said Richard as they went, "if she should see Mr. Wingfold pa.s.s, to ask him to call at old Armour's smithy. She does not seem to remember me! Good day! I'm in a hurry!" He leaped into the pony-cart.

"Ba.r.s.et!" he cried, and the same moment they were off at speed, for Simon saw something fresh was up.