Part 101 (2/2)

'My uncle showed it to me.'

'Then you can tell me what I want to hear, for no one has told me anything. I suppose my uncle is to be guardian?'

'No; Lady Morville.'

'You don't mean it? Most lover-like indeed. That poor girl to manage that great property? Everything left to her!' said Mrs. Henley, continuing her catechism in spite of the unwillingness of his replies.

'Were there any legacies? I know of Miss Wellwood's.'

'That to Dixon's daughter, and my own,' he answered.

'Yours? How was it that I never heard of it? What is it?'

'Ten thousand,' said Philip, sadly.

'I am delighted to hear it!' cried Margaret. 'Very proper of Sir Guy--very proper indeed, poor youth. It is well thought of to soften the disappointment.'

Philip started forward. 'Disappointment!' exclaimed he, with horror.

'You need not look as if I wished to commit murder,' said his sister, smiling. 'Have you forgotten that it depends on whether it is a son or daughter?'

His dismay was not lessened. 'Do you mean to say that this is to come on me if the child is a daughter?'

'Ah! you were so young when the entail was made, that you knew nothing of it. Female heirs were expressly excluded. There was some aunt whom old Sir Guy pa.s.sed over, and settled the property on my father and you, failing his own male heirs.'

'No one would take advantage of such a chance,' said Philip.

'Do not make any rash resolutions, my dear brother, whatever you do,'

said Margaret. 'You have still the same fresh romantic generous spirit of self-sacrifice that is generally so soon worn out, but you must not let it allow you--'

'Enough of this,' said Philip, hastily, for every word was a dagger.

'Ah! you are right not to dwell on the uncertainty. I am almost sorry I told you,' said Margaret. 'Tell me about Miss Wellwood's legacy,' she continued, desirous of changing the subject. 'I want to know the truth of it, for every one is talking of it.''How comes the world to know of it?'

'There have been reports ever since his death, and now it has been paid, whatever it is, on Lady Morville's coming of age. Do you know what it is? The last story I was told was, that it was 2O,OOO, to found a convent to pray for his grand--'

'Five thousand for her hospital,' interrupted Philip. 'Sister!' he added; speaking with effort, 'it was for that hospital that he made the request for which we persecuted him.'

'Ah! I thought so, I could have told you so!' cried Margaret, triumphant in her sagacity, but astonished, as her brother started up and stood looking at her, as if he could hardly resolve to give credit to her words.

'You--thought--so,' he repeated slowly.

'I guessed it from the first. He was always with that set, and I thought it a very bad thing for him; but as it was only a guess, it was not worth while to mention it: besides, the cheque seemed full evidence. It was the general course, not the individual action.'

'If you thought so, why not mention it to me? Oh! sister, what would you not have spared me!'

'I might have done so if it had appeared that it might lead to his exculpation, but you were so fully convinced that his whole course confirmed the suspicions, that a mere vague idea was not worth dwelling on. Your general opinion, of him satisfied me.'

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