The shock of his wife's falsehood may kill him--after he has
made a new will in your favour!"
The two men stood face to face, looking at each other.
"What do you mean?" Reginald asked; "and why do you look at me like
that?"
"I am only thinking what a lucky fellow you would be if this grief that
has fallen upon your uncle were to be fatal to his life."
"Don't talk like that, Carrington. I won't think of such a thing. I am
had enough, I know; but not quite so bad as to wish my uncle dead."
"You would be sorry if he were dead, I suppose? Sorry--with this domain
your own! with all power and pleasure that wealth can purchase for a
man! You would be sorry, would you? You wish well to the kind kinsman
to whom you have been such a devoted nephew! You would prefer to wait
thirty years for your heritage--if you should live so long!"
"Victor Carrington," cried Reginald, passionately, "you are the fiend
himself, in disguise! Let me pass. I will not stop to listen to your
hateful words."
"Wait to hear one question, at any rate. Why do you suppose I made you
sign that promissory note at a twelvemonth's date?"
"I don't know; but you must know, as well as I do, that the note will
be waste-paper so long as my uncle lives."
"I do know that, my dear Reginald; but I got you to date the document
as you did, because I have a kind of presentiment that before that date
you will be master of Raynham!"
"You mean that my uncle will die within the year?"
"I am subject to presentiments of that kind.
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