Even yet there had been no clear statement as to what had been done between father and son. There was so much of clinging, trusting, perfect love in the father's words towards the son, that the latter could not bear to say a word that should produce sorrow. When the Squire declared that Ralph should have it all, free,--to do just as he pleased with it, with all the full glory of ownership, Ralph could not bring himself to throw a doubt upon the matter. And yet he did doubt;--more than doubted;--felt almost certain that his father was in error. While his father had remained alone up in town he had been living with Gregory, and had known what Gregory thought and believed. He had even seen his namesake's letter to Gregory, in which it was positively stated that the reversion would not be sold. Throughout the morning the Squire went on speaking of his hopes, and saying that this and that should be done the very moment that the contract was signed; at last Ralph spoke out, when, on some occasion, his father reproached him for indifference. "I do so fear that you will be disappointed," he said. "Why should I be disappointed?" "It is not for my own sake that I fear, for in truth the arrangement, as it stands, is no bar to my enjoyment of the place." "It is a most absolute bar to mine," said the Squire. "I fear it is not settled." "I know that;--but I see no reason why it should not be settled. Do you know any reason?" "Gregory feels sure that his brother will never consent." "Gregory is all very well. Gregory is the best fellow in the world. Had Gregory been in his brother's place I shouldn't have had a chance. But Gregory knows nothing about this kind of thing, and Gregory doesn't in the least understand his brother." "But Ralph has told him so." "Ralph will say anything. He doesn't mind what lies he tells." "I think you are too hard on him," said the son.