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Page 83
"Oh, you don't know them, Julius! They would not break bread with us if
they were starving."
"Very well. What do I care?"
But he did care. When the wagoners driving their long teams pretended
not to hear his greeting, for the jingling of their bells, he knew it
was pretence, and the wagoners' aversion hurt him. When the herdsmen
sauntered away from his path, and preferred not to talk to him, he felt
the bitterness of their dislike, though they were only shepherds. When
the gentlemen of the neighborhood looked straight before them, and did
not see him in their path, he burned with an indignation he would have
liked well to express. But no one took the trouble to offend him by word
or deed, and a man cannot pick a quarrel with people for simply letting
him alone.
Sophia's opinion recalled one or two of these events that were
particularly galling; and he finished his breakfast in a sulky,
leisurely fashion, to such reflections as they evoked. Then, with a
cigar in his mouth, he went to the master's room to see Moser. He had
been told that other parties were there also, but he did not surmise
that their business was identical. Yet he noticed the clergyman on
entering, and appeared inclined to attend to his request first; but as
he courteously waved his claim away, and retired to the other end of
the room, Julius said curtly,--
"Well, Mr. Moser, good-morning, sir."
The lawyer was pretending to be absorbed in the captions of the papers
in his hand, for he was offended at being kept waiting so long: "As if a
bite of victuals was of more ado than business that could bring Matthew
Moser all the road from Kendal."
"Good-morning, Mr. Sandal."
The omission of "Squire," and the substitution of "Mr.," annoyed Julius
very much, though he had not a suspicion of the lawyer's errand; and he
corrected the mistake with a bland smile on his lips, and an angry light
in his eyes. Moser, in reply, selected one particular paper, and put it
into the hand of Julius.
"Acting for Squire Sandal, I would be a middling bad sort of a lawyer to
give you his name. Eh?"
"You are talking in riddles, sir."
"Eh! But I always read my riddles, Mr. Sandal. I am here to take
possession of house and land, for the real heir of Sandal-Side."
"I bought his right, as you know very well. You have Harry Sandal's own
acknowledgment."
"Eh? But you see, Harry Sandal never had a penny-worth of right to sell.
Launcelot Sandal left a son, and for him I am acting. Eh?"
"Launcelot Sandal was drowned. He never married."
"Eh, but he did!--Parson Sellafield, what do you say about that?"
"I married him on July 11, 18--, at Egremont church. There," pointing to
Matt Pattison, "is the witness. Here is a copy of the license and the
'lines.' They are signed, 'Launcelot Sandal' and 'Ducie Latrigg.'"
"Confusion!"
"Eh? No, no! There's not a bit of confusion, Mr. Sandal. It is all as
clear as the multiplication table, and there is nothing clearer than
that. Launcelot Sandal married Ducie Latrigg; they had one son, Stephen
Sandal, otherwise known as Stephen Latrigg: proofs all ready, sir, not a
link missing, Mr. Sandal. When will you vacate? The squire is inclined
to be easy with you, and not to back-reckon, unless you force him to do
so."
"This is a conspiracy, Moser."
"Conspiracy! Eh? Ugly word, Mr. Sandal. An actionable word, I may say."
"It is a conspiracy. You shall hear from me through some respectable
lawyer."
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