'No--but'--she drew herself up--'I should blame myself if I made it easier for you to do something you would afterwards regret.' 'What do you mean?' She summoned all her courage. 'Of course I must know something. You have not kept your affairs very secret. I guess that you are angry with your son, with Major Mannering. If this thing you ask me to sign is to hurt--to injure him--if it is--well, then--I refuse to sign it!' And with a sudden movement she threw both her hands behind her back and clasped them there. 'You refuse?' 'If you admit my description of that paper.' She motioned towards it as it lay on the writing-table. 'I have no objection whatever to your knowing what it is--as you seem determined to know,' he said sarcastically. 'It is a codicil revoking my will in favour of my eldest son, and leaving all the property of which I die possessed, and which is in my power to bequeath, to my younger son Desmond. What have you to do with that? What possible responsibility can you have?' Elizabeth wavered, but held her ground, though in evident distress. 'Only that--if I don't sign it--you would have time to consider it again. Mr. Mannering--isn't it--isn't it--very unjust?' The Squire laughed. 'How do you know that in refusing you are not unjust to Desmond?' 'Oh no!' she said fervently. 'Mr. Desmond would never wish to supplant his brother--and for such a reason. And especially--' she paused. There were tears rising in her throat. 'Especially--what? Upon my word, you claim a rather remarkable knowledge of my family--in six weeks!' 'I do know something of Desmond!' Her voice showed her agitation. 'He is the dearest, the most generous boy. In a few months he will be going out--he will be saying good-bye to you all.' 'And then?' 'Is this a time to make him unhappy--to send him out with something on his mind?--something that might even--' 'Well, go on!' 'Might even make him wish'--her voice dropped--'not to come back.' There was silence. Then the Squire violently threw down the pen he was holding on the table beside him. 'Thank you, Miss Bremerton. That will do. I bid you good-night!' Elizabeth did not wait to be told twice. She turned and fled down the whole length of the library. The door at the further end closed upon her. 'A masterful young woman!' said the Squire after a moment, drawing a long breath. Then he took up the codicil, thrust it into a drawer of his writing-table, lit a cigarette, and walked up and down smoking it. After which he went to bed and slept remarkably well. Elizabeth cried herself to sleep. No comforting sprite whispered to her that she had won the first round in an arduous campaign. On the contrary, she fully expected dismissal on the morrow. CHAPTER V