To her stepson, Leonard, she left an income of four hundred pounds, and expressed a hope that he would adopt some profession or pursuit in which he might attain fortune and distinction. His father was empowered to further in a practical way any step in this direction. To her son Gerald she also left an income of four hundred pounds, but there was this difference between the bequests. Leonard's remained always the same--four hundred pounds, no more and no less; whereas Gerald's, when he reached the age of twenty-one, was increased to one thousand pounds. Moreover, upon the death of his father, all that Mrs. Paget devised to her husband was to revert to her son, whose income would then amount to nearly four thousand pounds. Leonard, studying the will, reckoned this up, and said, "I am the elder son, and I have exactly one-tenth of the younger son's fortune." There was another clause in the will. As upon the death of the father the income that was left to him was to fall to Gerald, so, should it happen that both Gerald and his father died before Leonard, the entire fortune would fall to the elder son. In the event of Gerald marrying this would not be the case; Gerald could devise to his wife and children, if he had any, all that he possessed, thus, as it were, disbarring Leonard. For the soured and disappointed young man there were, then, these chances: First, that his father should die. Second, that Gerald should die. Third, that he should die unmarried. These conditions fulfilled, Leonard would become the master of four thousand pounds a year. It occurred to Leonard that the sooner all this occurred the better, and the thought having obtained lodgement in his mind, remained there.
Safely hidden, safely concealed. He was not a man who wore his heart upon his sleeve. He was one who could present a smiling face while he was concocting the cunningest of schemes. He had but one view of life, the pursuit of pleasure. There was a certain similarity between him and Gerald; they were both easy-natured outwardly, but there was no guile in Gerald's disposition, while guile was the very essence of Leonard's.
"I can't very well live on four hundred a year," he said to his father, after the death of his step-mother. "You never led me to expect that I should have to do so."
"I will double it, Len," said the indulgent father; "but you are a man now, and understand things. The fortune which has enabled us to maintain our position was strictly my wife's and she had a right to do what she pleased with it. Had it not been for her money you and I would have been poor gentlemen."
"That is all very well," said Leonard, "but the reflection comes too late, father. To bring up a person in the expectation of fortune, and then to suddenly let him down to poverty, is not what I call just or fair. That is all I want--justice, and I have a right to it."
"Every person has a right to it."
"Then you agree with me that I am hardly treated."
"Eight hundred a year is not a bad income, Len."
"But, if you will forgive me for mentioning it, father--I am a man, as you say, and can't help thinking of things--that is only during your lifetime. Heaven forbid that anything should happen to you, but we are all mortal, and down I should drop to a miserable seven or eight pounds a week."
"Gerald has the sweetest disposition in the world," said Mr. Paget; "you can always depend upon him."