“What is over? What is finished?”
“Everything, Sir—everything! I leave this within an hour—earlier if I can. I have sent two messengers for the horses, and I’d leave on foot—ay, Sir, on foot—rather than pass another day under this roof!”
“Will you have the extreme kindness to tell me why you are going off in this fashion?”
Instead of complying with this reasonable request, Mr. M’Kinlay burst out into a passionate torrent, in which the words “Dupe!” “Fool!” and “Cajoled!” were alone very audible, but his indignation subsided after a while sufficiently to enable him to state that he had been sent for by Sir Within, after breakfast, to confer with him on the subject of that codicil he had spoken of on the previous day.
“He was more eager than ever about it, Sir,” said he. “The girl had written him some very touching lines of adieu, and I found him in tears as I came to his bedside. I must own, too, that he talked more sensibly and more collectedly than before, and said, in a tone of much meaning, ‘When a man is so old and so friendless as I am, he ought to be thankful to do all the good he can, and not speculate on any returns either in feeling or affection I I left him, Sir, to make a brief draft of what he had been intimating to me. It would take me, I told him, about a couple of hours, but I hoped I could complete it in that time. Punctual to a minute, I was at his door at one o’clock; but guess my surprise when Miss Courtenay’s voice said, ‘Come in!’ Sir Within was in his dressing-gown, seated at the fire, the table before him covered with gems and trinkets, with which he appeared to be intently occupied. ‘Sit down, M’Kinlay,’ said he, courteously. ‘I want you to choose something here—something that Mrs. M’Kinlay would honour me by accepting.’ She whispered a word or two hastily in his ear, and he corrected himself at once, saying, ‘I ask pardon! I meant your respected mother. I remember you are a widower.’ To withdraw his mind from this painful wandering, I opened my roll of papers and mentioned their contents. Again she whispered him something, but he was evidently unable to follow her meaning; for he stared blankly at her, then at me, and said, ‘Yes, certainly, I acquiesce in everything.’ ‘It will be better, perhaps, to defer these little matters, Miss Courtenay,’ Said I, ‘to some moment when Sir Within may feel more equal to the fatigue of business.’ She stooped down and said something to him, and suddenly his eyes sparkled, his cheek flushed, and, laying his hand-with emphasis on the table, he said, ‘I have no need of Law or Lawyers, Sir! This lady, in doing me the honour to accord me her hand, has made her gift to me more precious by a boundless act of confidence; she will accept of no settlements.’ ‘Great Heavens! Miss Courtenay,’ whispered I, ‘is he not wandering in his mind? Surely this is raving!’ ‘I think, Sir, you will find that the only person present whose faculties are at fault is Mr. M’Kinlay. Certainly I claim exemption both for Sir Within Wardle and myself.’ It was all true, Sir—true as I stand here! She is to be his wife. As to her generosity about the settlements, I understood it at once. She had got the whole detail of the property from me only yesterday, and knew that provision was made—a splendid provision, too—for whomsoever he might marry. So much for the trustfulness!”
“But what does it signify to you, M’Kinlay? You are not a Lord Chancellor, with a function to look after deranged old men and fatherless young ladies, and I don’t suppose the loss of a settlement to draw will be a heart-break to you.”
“No, Sir; but, lawyer as I am, there are depths of perfidy I’m not prepared for.”
“Come in and wish them joy, M’Kinlay. Take my word for it, it might have been worse. Old Sir Within’s misfortune might have befallen you or myself!”