His welcome was like himself, but he needed a reminder of Clarence's
request for an interview. Then we repaired to the study, for
Clarence begged that his brothers might be present, and then the
beginning was made. 'Do you remember my showing you a will that I
found in the ruins at Chantry House?'
'A horrid old scrap that you chose to call one. Yes; I told you to
burn it.'
'Sir, we have proved that a great injustice was perpetrated by our
ancestor, Philip Winslow, and that the poor lady who made that will
was cruelly treated, if not murdered. This is no fancy; I have
known it for years past, but it is only now that restitution has
become possible.'
'Restitution? What are you talking about? I never wanted the place
nor coveted it.'
'No, sir, but the act was our forefather's. You cannot bid us sit
down under the consciousness of profiting by a crime. I could not
do so before, but I now implore you to let me restore you either
Chantry House and the three farms, or their purchase money,
according to the valuation made at my father's death. I have it in
hand.'
Frank Fordyce walked about the room quite overcome. 'You foolish
fellow!' he said, 'Was it for this that you have been toiling and
throwing away your health in that pestiferous place? Edward, did
you know this?'
'Yes,' I answered. 'Clarence has intended this ever since he found
the will.
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