ce. I dreaded the next question, which came promptly:

"And what does the iron-fisted Colonel say as to thee for a son-in-law?"

It took me at least five minutes to explain, and I felt my anomalous
position keenly during the process, while, when the story was finished,
Martin Lorimer laughed a harsh dry laugh.

"Ralph, thou'rt rash and headstrong and a condemned fool besides," he
said. "Thee would never have made a partner in the Orb mill. Thou'rt Tom's
bairn all through, but I like thy spirit. Stand up there, straight and
steady, so, while I look at thee. Never a son of my own, lad; thou'rt the
last of the Lingdale folk, and I had set my heart on thee. Ay, I'm the
successful spinner, and I paid for my success. It's hard to keep one's
hands clean and be first in the business; but there's no one better knows
the sign; and travel, and maybe Miss Carrington, has put that sign on
thee. Once I hoped--it's past and done with, I'm foolish as well as old;
but as that can never be, I'm only wishing the best of luck to thee."

He gulped down a glass of the red wine and wiped his forehead, while his
voice had a hard note in it as he continued: "Her father's a man of iron,
but there's iron, too, in thee. I had my part in the people's struggle
when Lancashire led the way, and then after a trick at the election I
hated him and all his kind. I've a better reason since for hating him. We
can beat them in brain and muscle, our courage is as good as theirs, and
yet, if you weld the two kinds together, there's not their equal in the
world. He's proud of his robber forbears, but there was one of thine drew
a good bow with the archers at Crecy. Ralph, thy news has stirred me into
vaporing, and the man who built the Orb mill is prating like a child. Ay,
I'm grieved to the heart--and I'm glad. Fill up thy glass to the brim,
lad--here's God bless her and thee."

There followed a clink of glasses, and some of the wine was spilt. I could
see the red drops widen on the snowy tablecloth, and then Martin Lorimer
gripped my hand in a manner that showed no traces of senile decay, saying
somewhat huskily as he turned away:

"I want time to think it over, but I'll tell thee this. Hold fast with
both hands to thy purpose, take the thrashings--and wait, and if ever
thou'rt hard pressed, with thy back right on the wall, thou'lt remember
Martin Lorimer--or damn thy mulishness."

They gave me the same advice all round, and perhaps it was as well, for o