"Yes, I have," answered the attorney with more boldness than he had ever used in speaking to his cousin since he became a great man. "But a bargain's a bargain."
"I know it is, cousin,—and Heaven preserve to me my lawful rights and inheritance, as I faithfully keep to you the word I have given!"
"And how is it to be managed then?... Am I to go to the girl's bed-room?"
"Give me the will, cousin Stephen," said the vicar, holding out his hand to receive it, "and I will satisfy you fully upon this matter."
Mr. Corbold, however, looked extremely rebellious, and no corner of parchment could be descried about any part of his person. "A bargain's a bargain, I tell you, cousin William," he repeated doggedly; "and you may as well remember that a lawyer that is intrusted with the keeping of a will is no way bound to give it up; particularly to the party whom it chiefly concerns."
Mr. Cartwright measured his contumacious relative with his eye, very much as if he intended to floor and rifle him; but wiser thoughts prevailed, and he gently replied, seating himself in his own peculiar chair, and making a sign to his companion that he should place himself opposite: "May He, cousin Stephen, whose professing servants we are, save and deliver us from quarrelling with one another, especially at a blessed moment like this, when every thing seems fitted by his holy providence, so as to ensure us peace and prosperity in this world, and doubtless, everlasting glory in the life to come!"
"All that's very true, cousin Cartwright; and if your cloth and calling set you to speak of heavenly things, especial grace, years ago manifested in me, makes me nothing behind you in the same. But, for all that, I know well enough, that there's many a worldly-minded unprofessing lawyer, who would gain credit and honour both, by taking care to let young Mowbray know what that pious lady his mother has been about, instead of keeping the thing as secret as if it were a forgery of my own; and it is but common justice between man and man, to say nothing of cousins and professing Christians, that conduct so every way convenient and considerate as mine, should not go unrewarded. I have set my heart upon having that girl Helen, and I don't wish for any thing in the end but lawful wedlock, and all that; and the more, because I take it for granted that you don't mean altogether to leave the young woman without fortune;—but she's restive, cousin, and that you know, and we are therefore called upon, as men and Christians, to make use and profit of that wit and strength which it hath pleased Providence in its wisdom to give us over the weaker vessel; and all I ask of you is so to put it within my reach and power to do this, that the righteous ends we have in view may be obtained through the same."
"I have heard you to the end, cousin Stephen, which will, I trust, considering all things, be accepted in token of an humble spirit. What you have said, however, excepting that it was needless, is altogether reasonable, and betokens that wisdom of which the Lord hath seen fit to make you an example upon the earth. But you find that my conscience needed not your reproof. Few hours have passed since I gave proof sufficient of the sincerity with which I desire to strengthen the ties between us. By the accident of the post-bag's being brought into my room, I was made aware that it contained a letter addressed to Helen Mowbray, evidently in the handwriting of a man. And what could it be to me, cousin Stephen, whether that unconverted girl got a letter from a man, or went without it? Nothing, positively nothing. But I remembered me of you, cousin, and of the tender affections which you had fixed upon her, and, fearless of consequences, I instantly broke the seal, and found, as I expected, a very worldly-minded proposal of marriage, without the decency of any allusion whatever to my will in the business; and I therefore of course felt it my duty to destroy it both for your sake and that of the Lord, whose blessing the impious young man did not deem it necessary to mention. Nevertheless, the proposal came from one of the first families in the county, and the girl would have been my lady in due course of nature, a thing not altogether without value to her family and father-in-law. But I never hesitated for one moment, and you may see the ashes of Colonel Harrington's love-letter under the grate."
"That was acting like the good and chosen servant, cousin William, that I have long known you to be. But, such being the case, why have you scrupled to let me speak to the young girl this night in private?"
"For the good and sufficient reason, that she chose to go, even though I told her to stay, and, without exposing myself to a very unpleasant scene before my curate and the rest of my people, I could not have detained her. Besides, at the moment of her departure I knew that the will, which you still keep from me, cousin Stephen, was not either signed or executed,—another good and sufficient reason, as I take it, for not choosing to keep the girl back by force. But fear nothing; what I have promised, that I will perform. Give me the will, cousin Stephen, and I will tell you what my scheme is for you."