"But, dear Mr. Houseman, that is what makes me uneasy: at this rate they must look on one another as—as—rivals: and you know rivals are sometimes enemies."
"Oh I see now," said Houseman: "you apprehend a quarrel between the gentlemen. Of course there is no love lost between them; but they met in my office and saluted each other with perfect civility. I saw them with my own eyes."
"Indeed! I am glad to hear that; very glad. I hope it was only a coincidence then, their both making their wills."
"Nothing more you may depend: neither of them knows from me what the other has done; nor ever will."
"That is true," said Kate, and seemed considerably relieved.
To ease her mind entirely, Houseman went on to say that as to the report that high words had passed between the clients in question, at the Roebuck, he had no doubt it was exaggerated. "Besides," said he, "that was not about a lady; I'm told it was about a horse. Some bet belike."
Catherine uttered a faint cry. "About a horse!" said she. "Not about a grey horse?"
"Nay, that is more than I know."
"High words about a horse," said Catherine; "and they are making their wills. Oh! my mind misgave me from the first." And she turned pale. Presently she clasped her hands together—"Mr. Houseman!" she cried, "what shall I do? What, do you not see that both their lives are in danger? and that is why they make their wills. And how should both their lives be in danger, but from each other? Madmen! they have quarreled: they are going to fight; fight to the death: and I fear it is about me. Me who love neither of them, you know."
"In that case, let them fight," said her legal adviser, dispassionately. "Whichever fool gets killed, you will be none the poorer." And the dog wore a sober complacency.