"Where is he? where is he?" exclaimed his brother. "I must see him, Chandos; I must have him here."
"That you can have in half-an-hour," answered Chandos: "I left him at the village inn."
"Oh, send him to me!" cried Sir William: "I knew not she had had a child. Yet, stay one moment; promise me, Chandos, as a man of honour, if anything befalls to take me hence, that you will be a father to my boy."
"Be you sure I will, William," answered Chandos Winslow. "Is there anything more?"
"Yes, one thing more," replied his brother, taking up the paper he had written in the morning; "I have there put down my wishes--informally perhaps--in the shape of a will. I have named you my executor; and I am sure that, whether the will be valid or not, you will carry it out."
"Upon my honour," answered Chandos Winslow, "if you have left the boy your whole property, it shall be his."
"No, I have not done that," said Sir William; "I have not wronged you, Chandos, in this at least: and now send me my boy as soon as may be; but come yourself afterwards. Take the will with you. No one can tell what may happen from hour to hour in this life."
"That is true, William;" answered Chandos; "but yet I trust there is no such imminent danger, though it is evident you are far from well. If you would see a physician, you would really greatly oblige me; but I will speak with you more on that subject, when I return, which shall be ere long."
The moment his brother was gone, Sir William Winslow rang the bell, and sent for his valet. The man entered with a peculiarly placable and even smiling look; a visitation with which his countenance was seldom troubled. But it was soon changed into one of dark malevolence; for the first words of his master were:--"I sent for you, Benini, to tell you that I shall have no further need of your services after the end of a month. You have warning to that effect. You may go."
"Very well, Sir William," replied the man; "but it might be better for you to think."