"And what to do there?"
"We are to embark."
"And in what direction are we to sail?"
"That is my secret; trust in me and you will not regret it. However, I should tell you, perhaps," added he, in a tone which moved me deeply, "I ought to tell you without any silly trifling, that you will do as well to arrange any business you may have on your mind, in case of our not returning."
"You mean I am to make my will?" I cried out, laughing at such an idea.
"Do as you please," said Lord Falmouth, in the most uninterested way possible.
Still continuing to believe this voyage in the light of a mystification in which I was willing to indulge him, I was so desirous of quitting Paris, where such cruel souvenirs continued to sadden my life, that I decided to write a few last words as a measure of prudence; however, I said to Lord Falmouth:
"Oh, I see, it is a bet you have made, to get me to make my will."
"Then don't make it," said he, without changing his expression.
I knew that on several occasions Lord Falmouth had started off in this impromptu way on very long voyages. I thought then, that, perhaps, after all, he felt the desire for a sudden change. Now his companionship was very agreeable to me, and the object of the voyage, which he tried to hide from me (doubtless to excite my curiosity) by an appearance of mystery, might suit me very well. Perhaps, though, it might have unforeseen consequences, and so I might as well write a few directions in case we should not return, as he said.