“But what would you have me do—so young and so beautiful, too! I’ll think over it to-night. I never sleep much now, the rats are so troublesome.”
“Rats!” cried Rainscourt; “why not get some arsenic?”
“Arsenic!” echoed the old woman; “is it arsenic for the rats you mean?”
“Yes,” replied Rainscourt, significantly; “for all sorts of rats—those who would undermine the foundation of an ancient house.”
“Sure it’s an old house, that of the Rainscourts,” replied the nurse; “but I’m giddy a little—I’ll think a bit.” In a second or two, her face brightened up a little. “Why don’t you marry the two together? Such a handsome couple as they’d be!”
“Marry, you old fool! Do you think, now that he is aware that all the property is his, that he would marry Emily, without a sixpence? No—no.”
“True—and it’s the arsenic you want, then?—and you’re sure that the priest will give absolution?”
“Sure,” replied Rainscourt, out of patience; “come to me at daylight to-morrow morning.”
“Well, I’ll think about it to-night when I’m asleep.—And so young, and so beautiful, too. Och hone!” murmured the old woman, as she unlocked the door, and with tremulous gait quitted the room.
Rainscourt, left to himself again became the prey to conflicting passions. Although his conscience had long been proof against any remorse at the commission of the every-day crimes which stained the earth, yet it recoiled at meditated murder. More than once he determined to leave it all to chance, and if Seymour did recover, to fly the country with all the money he could raise; but the devil had possession, and was not to be cast out.