Three hundred pounds, and any other sum
Of which the said testatrix dies possessed.
I say she died possessed of other sums.’
‘Dear Romney, need we chronicle the pence?
I’m richer than I thought—that’s evident.
Enough so.’
‘Listen rather. You’ve to do
With business and a cousin,’ he resumed,
‘And both, I fear, need patience. Here’s the fact.
The other sum (there is another sum,
Unspecified in any will which dates
After possession, yet bequeathed as much
And clearly as those said three hundred pounds)
Is thirty thousand. You will have it paid
When? . . where? My duty troubles you with words.’
He struck the iron when the bar was hot;
No wonder if my eyes sent out some sparks.
‘Pause there! I thank you. You are delicate
In glosing gifts;—but I, who share your blood,
Am rather made for giving, like yourself,
Than taking, like your pensioners. Farewell.’
He stopped me with a gesture of calm pride.
‘A Leigh,’ he said, ‘gives largesse and gives love,
But gloses neither: if a Leigh could glose,
He would not do it, moreover, to a Leigh,
With blood trained up along nine centuries
