She was fighting
for her own. She could not bear to think of parting with this home
where she had lived so happily with her husband, and where her two
children were born and reared. Even though Peg was not of the same
caste, much could be done with her. Once accept her into the family
and the rest would be easy.
As she looked piercingly into Alaric's eyes, he caught the full
significance of the suggestion. His lips pursed to whistle--but no
sound came through them. He muttered hoarsely, as though he were
signing away his right to happiness
"Five thousand pounds a year! Five thousand of the very best!" Mrs.
Chichester took the slowly articulated words in token of acceptance.
He would do it! She knew he would! Always ready to rise to a point
of honour and to face a duty or confront a danger, he was indeed her
son.
She took him in her arms and pressed his reluctant and shrinking
body to her breast.
"Oh, my boy!" she wailed joyfully. "My dear, dear boy!"
Alaric disengaged himself alertly.
"Here, half a minute, mater. Half a minute, please: One can't burn
all one's boats like that, without a cry for help."
"Think what it would mean, dear! Your family preserved, and a brand
snatched from the burning!"
"That's just it.
Pages:
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340