“Really I cannot be expected to discuss the matter farther,” replied Mr. Vernor, with greater irritation of manner than he had yet suffered to appear. “I have not formed my opinion of Mr. Fairlegh hastily, nor on insufficient grounds, and it is not very probable that I shall alter it on the representations of a nameless individual, brought here for the evident purpose of chorusing Mr. Fairlegh's assertions, and assisting to browbeat those who may be so unfortunate as to differ from him. You must find such a friend invaluable, I should imagine,” he added, turning towards me with a supercilious smile. “Umph! nameless individual, sir—nameless individual, indeed! Do you know who you are talking to?” Then came the aside, “Of course he does not, how should be? Umph!”
“I think you must by this time see the folly of attempting to prolong this absurd scene, Mr. Fairlegh,” said Mr. Vernor, addressing me, without noticing Mr. Frampton's observation otherwise than by a contemptuous glance; “I presume we have come to the last act of this revival of the old comedy, 'A Bold Stroke for a Wife,' and I think you are pretty well aware of my opinion of the performance.”
“Umph! eh?—I fancy you'll find there's another act before the play is ended yet, sir,” returned Mr. Prampton, who was now thoroughly roused; “an act that, with all your cunning, you are not prepared for, and that even your unparalleled effrontery will be insufficient to carry you through unmoved. You say, sir, that by the will of the late Sir Henry Saville, his daughter's inheritance descends to you in the event of her marrying without your consent. May I ask whether there is not a certain contingency provided for, which might divert the property into another channel? Umph!”
“Really, sir, it is long since I looked at the will,” exclaimed Mr. Vernor, for the first time dropping his usual tone of contemptuous indifference, and speaking quickly and with excitement—“May I inquire to what you refer?”
“Was there not a clause to this effect, sir?” continued Mr. Frampton sternly; and, producing a slip of paper, he read as follows:—
“'But whereas it was the firm belief and conviction of the aforesaid Clara Rose Elliot, afterwards Lady Saville, my late lamented wife, that her brother Ralph Elliot, supposed to have perished at sea, had not so perished, but was living in one of our colonies, I hereby will and direct, that in the event of the said Ralph Elliot returning to England, and clearly proving and establishing his identity, three hundred pounds per annum shall be allowed him out of my funded property, for his maintenance during the term of his natural life; and I further will and direct, that in the event of my daughter, Clara Saville, by disobedience to the commands of her guardian, Richard Vernor, forfeiting her inheritance as, by way of penalty, I have above directed, then I devise and bequeath the before mentioned funded property, together with Barstone Priory and the lands and rents appertaining thereunto, to the aforesaid Ralph Elliot, for his absolute use and behoof '.”
As he listened to the reading of this portion of the will, Mr. Vernor's usually immovable features assumed an expression of uneasiness which increased into an appearance of vague and undefined alarm; and when Mr. Frampton concluded, he exclaimed hurriedly, “Well, sir, what of that? The man has been drowned these forty years.”
“Umph! I rather think not,” was the reply, “I don't look much like a drowned man, do I? Umph!”
So saying, he strode up to Mr. Vernor, and, regarding him with a stern expression of countenance, added: “You were pleased in your insolence, just now, to term me a 'nameless individual'; these papers,” he continued, producing a bundle, “will prove to you that Ralph Elliot was not drowned at sea, as you imagine, but that the nameless individual whom in my person you have treated with unmerited insult, is none other than he”.
“It is false!” exclaimed Mr. Vernor, turning pale with rage. “This is all a vile plot, got up in order to extort my consent to this marriage. But I'll expose you—I'll—”