The
subject haunted and worried him; and as worries are never complete
worries till they have an individuality, Steve very soon became the
personal embodiment of mortifying uncertainty, and wounded _amour
propre_. For if Mrs. Sandal's suspicion were true, or even if it were
not true, she was not likely to be the only one in Sandal-Side who would
construe Latrigg's singular disposition of his papers in the same way.
Certainly Squire William did not feel as if the dead man had 'done well
to Sandal.'
Stephen was equally annoyed. His grandfather had belonged to a dead
century, and retained until the last his almost feudal idea of the bond
between his family and the Sandals. But the present squire had stepped
outside the shadows of the past, and Stephen was fully abreast of his
own times. He understood very well, that, whatever these papers related
to, they would be a constant thorn in Sandal's side; and he saw them
lying between Charlotte and himself, a barrier unknown, and
insurmountable because unknown.
From Ducie he could obtain neither information nor assistance. "Mother,"
he asked, "do you know what those papers are about?"
"Ratherly."
"When can you tell me?"
"There must be a deal of sorrow before I can tell you."
"Do you want to tell me?"
"If I should dare to want it one minute, I should ask God's pardon the
next. When I unlock that box, Steve, there is like to be trouble in
Sandal.
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