Thus it came about that when the manufacturer winked at young Lee and called him "a lucky dog," he uttered a great truth, although he was quite ignorant of the fact. CHAPTER VI THE PHILOSOPHY OF MR. NORCOT A company all clad in black assembled at the dinner-table of Maurice Malherb. The family still mourned their hope, while Mr. Norcot's loss was even more recent. He bore himself with great correctness and resignation. The narrative of his uncle's sensational death was held back until later in the evening; out a matter more pressing filled Mr. Malherb's mind, and he hurried the ladies from the table when dessert was done, that he might open his project. "How do you find Grace bear herself towards you now?" began the farmer abruptly, when he found himself alone with his future son-in-law. "Alas! 'A fellow that lives in a windmill has not a more whimsical dwelling than the heart of a man lodged in a woman.' But I must be patient." Malherb frowned. "She's a fool--yet a fool may make the heart of the wise ache. Who shall escape a fool's folly if that fool be his daughter?" "Tut, tut! Don't call her a fool. She is young--still in her halcyon hours. As Horace----" "Listen to me, Peter. You are a reasonable man, and thank your God that it is so, for they grow rare. Now you will readily understand my feelings when my son died." "I died myself when I pictured your sufferings, Mr. Malherb. "'World-wasting Time, thou worker of our woes, Thou keen-edged razor of our famous name.'" "Even so. To be frank and avoid sentiment, I've put my life and soul into this place. I've made it a strong fortress for those to come. I have built and planted with my thoughts upon my son. And then, while the mortar was a-drying and the young larches getting their first root-hold, he fell. Think of what that meant to me." "My imagination can picture it. Death is so final. As Herrick says:-- "'Man is a watch, wound up at first, but never Wound up again: once down he's down for ever.' I have sympathised with all my soul." "Then you must be practical and prove your sympathy. I had meant to write to you, but speech is more direct, and so I waited until we met. Now thus it stands. My son has passed away; my daughter remains." "I have appreciated that. There was a verse writ on the Duchess of St. Albans by the Earl of Halifax for the toasting-glasses of the Kit-Cat Club. A word or two makes it exquisitely applicable:-- "'The line Malherb, so long renown'd in arms, Concludes with lustre in fair Grace's charms. Her conquering eyes have made their race complete: They rose in valour, and in beauty set.'" "They mustn't set; that's the whole matter," answered Maurice Malherb. "I have sworn to my heart that set they shall not. My son is dead; my grandson remains a possibility--nay, a certainty, so far as anything human can be certain." "Your grandson! You amaze me. Tut, tut! Was Noel married?"