“Upon no account!” interrupted Wimmering earnestly. “Such an action, my lord, would prove fatal, believe me! Let me repeat that my care has been to allay anxiety: until we see our way more clearly that is most necessary.”

Adam laid the paper down. “It is already clear to me. I am facing ruin, am I not?”

“Your lordship takes too despondent a view. The shock has overset you! But we need not despair.”

“No, if I had time enough, and the means, perhaps I could restore our fortunes. Surely Fontley was prosperous in my grandfather’s day? Since I came home I have been going all about with our bailiff, trying to learn from him in a week the things I ought to have learnt when I was a boy. Instead — ” he smiled rather painfully — “I was army-mad. One doesn’t realize, or foresee — But repining won’t help me out of my difficulties. The land here is as rich as any in Lincolnshire, but so much needs to be done! And if I had the means to do it I should wish above all things to redeem the mortgages, and that I certainly have not the means to do.”

“My lord, not all your lands are mortgaged! Do not, I beg of you — ”

“Mercifully, not all. The house, and the demesne-lands are unencumbered. Can you tell me what price we should set on them? Both have been neglected, but the Priory is generally thought to be beautiful, and has, besides, historic interest”

“Sell Fontley?” exclaimed Wimmering, aghast. “Your lordship cannot be serious! You are speaking in Jest, of course!”

“No, I am not speaking in Jest,” Adam replied quietly. “I don’t think I ever felt less like jesting in my life. If you could show me how to pay off this load of debt, how to provide for my sisters, without selling Fontley — but you can’t, can you?”