"No; it was an acute attack. I saw him the evening before, seemingly well, but distressed about you. The next day he was gone."
"Poor uncle!" sighed Fulvia.
Yet her mind at once reverted to the present question, the present pain, which dwarfed all lesser troubles. Nigel thought that her pensive look meant grief for Mr. Carden-Cox. His own attention was very much divided. He could not for a moment forget Fulvia's words of greeting; and after all, however kind to them, Mr. Carden-Cox was not a man to win great love.
"Strange,—the last time he saw me, he talked of making a new will," Fulvia remarked dreamily, forgetting that she had said the same before. "And I never went to see him again. I wish I had gone."
"The new will was not finished."
"So much the better."
"It will come to the same thing."
"No; the old will left half to you. I am glad it is so."
"Half the income—not half the personal effects. The house and all it contains will be yours."
"Was his income—? How much was it?"