"I did not realise that things were quite so bad," she murmured. "Then
I suppose that the place will be taken from us, and we shall--shall
have to go away."
"Yes, certainly, unless money can be found to take up the mortgages,
of which I see no chance. The place will be sold for what it will
fetch, and that now-a-days will be no great sum."
"When will that be?" she asked.
"In about six or nine months' time."
Ida's lips trembled, and the sight of the food upon her plate became
nauseous to her. A vision arose before her mind's eye of herself and
her old father departing hand in hand from the Castle gates, behind
and about which gleamed the hard wild lights of a March sunset, to
seek a place to hide themselves. The vivid horror of the phantasy
almost overcame her.
"Is there no way of escape?" she asked hoarsely. "To lose this place
would kill my father. He loves it better than anything in the world;
his whole life is wrapped up in it."
"I can quite understand that, Miss de la Molle; it is a most charming
old place, especially to anybody interested in the past. But
unfortunately mortgagees are no respecters of feelings. To them land
is so much property and nothing more."
"I know all that," she said impatiently, "you do not answer my
question;" and she leaned towards him, resting her hand upon the
table.
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