"Well;--no; I can't say it is. He is to give me his answer on the 20th. But I cannot see that he has any alternative. He must pay his debts, and he has no other way of paying them. He must live, and he has nothing else to live on. A fellow like that will have money, if he can lay his hands on it, and he can't lay his hands on it elsewhere. Of course he could get money; but he couldn't get it on such terms as I have offered him. He is to have down thirty thousand pounds, and then,--after that,--I am to pay him whatever more than that they may think the thing is worth to him. Under no circumstances is he to have less. It's a large sum of money, Ralph." "Yes, indeed;--though not so much as you had expected, sir." "Well,--no; but then there are drawbacks. However, I shall only be too glad to have it settled. I don't think, Ralph, you have ever realised what it has been for me not to be able to lay out a shilling on the property, as to which I was not satisfied that I should see it back again in a year or two." "And yet, sir, I have thought much about it." "Thought! By heavens, I have thought of nothing else. As I stand here, the place has hardly been worth the having to me, because of such thinking. Your uncle, from the very first, was determined to make it bitter enough. I shall never forget his coming to me when I cut down the first tree. Was I going to build houses for a man's son who begrudged me the timber I wanted about the place?" "He couldn't stop you there." "But he said he could,--and he tried. And if I wanted to change a thing here or there, was it pleasant, do you think, to have to go to him? And what pleasure could there be in doing anything when another was to have it all? But you have never understood it, Ralph. Well;--I hope you'll understand it some day. If this goes right, nobody shall ever stop you in cutting a tree. You shall be free to do what you please with every sod, and every branch, and every wall, and every barn. I shall be happy at last, Ralph, if I think that you can enjoy it." Then there was again a silence, for tears were in the eyes both of the father and of the son. "Indeed," continued the Squire, as he rubbed the moisture away, "my great pleasure, while I remain, will be to see you active about the place. As it is now, how is it possible that you should care for it?" "But I do care for it, and I think I am active about it." "Yes,--making money for that idiot, who is to come after me. But I don't think he ever will come. I dare say he won't be ashamed to shoot your game and drink your claret, if you'll allow him. For the matter of that, when the thing is settled he may come and drink my wine if he pleases. I'll be his loving uncle then, if he don't object. But as it is now;--as it has been, I couldn't have borne him."