"You never loved him as I do! What do I care about the estate? I wish it
were sold! D'you think I like living here? D'you think I've ever liked
it? D'you think I've ever----" But she did not finish that saying: D'you
think I've ever loved you? "My boy a scamp! I've heard you laugh and
shake your head and say a hundred times: 'Young men will be young men!'
You think I don't know how you'd all go on if you dared! You think I
don't know how you talk among yourselves! As for gambling, you'd gamble
too, if you weren't afraid! And now George is in trouble----"
As suddenly as it had broken forth the torrent of her words dried up.
Mr. Pendyce had come back to the foot of the bed, and once more gripped
the rail whereon the candle, still and bright, showed them each other's
faces, very changed from the faces that they knew. In the Squire's lean
brown throat, between the parted points of his stiff collar, a string
seemed working. He stammered:
"You--you're talking like a madwoman! My father would have cut me off,
his father would have cut him off! By God! do you think I'll stand
quietly by and see it all played ducks and drakes with, and see that
woman here, and see her son, a--a bastard, or as bad as a bastard, in my
place? You don't know me!"
The last words came through his teeth like the growl of a dog.
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