Mr. Driesen did not reply; for it was evident that, in Sir Francis Tyrrell's state of mind at the moment, no argument would be effectual. He saw him, then, take his hat and gloves, and set out for the manor with the appearance of cool indifference which he usually put on, taking up a book and stretching his leg over the back of one of the chairs, as if not one word of any importance had been said during the morning.
When Sir Francis was fairly out of the house, however, Mr. Driesen laid down the book, raised himself, and took two or three slow turns up and down the room, with his head bent forward and his eyes fixed upon the carpet. Into the exact nature of his thoughts we shall not inquire. It may be sufficient for us to give some of the broken sentences in which, as was very common with him, he commented aloud upon what was passing in his mind.
"Why should I care?" he said; "why should I care? better that I should have it than any one else; it would put me at ease for the rest of my life, and deliver me from the vile bondage of debts and embarrassment. I can use it while I live, and give it back to the boy at my death; all the better for him, too, not to have so much at first; and I know the devilish determination of this maddest of a mad family; if he does not leave it to me, he'll leave it to somebody else. 'Pon my soul, it's a lucky thing that he can't communicate the disease like a mad dog by the bite, for he's very well inclined to bite everybody he meets with. What a rabid race we should have. I shall get myself bitten some day; but, if ever we come to that, I think he'll meet with his match. Now he'll tease poor Mrs. Effingham's soul out before he comes up. I often think it would be a good thing if some of those on whom he vents his ill-nature were to imitate the worthy man that was hanged for knocking his great ancestor's brains out with an axe."
Thus reasoned Mr. Driesen with himself; and having at length settled the whole matter in his own mind, he resumed his book, threw his legs again over the selfsame chair which had supported them before, and was still deep in his studies when Sir Francis returned. Mr. Driesen very evidently heard by his step, and by the manner in which he threw down the hat he had worn, with an echoing emptiness, among half a dozen others strewed on a table placed in the hall to receive them, that his violent mood was anything but diminished. Mr. Driesen, however, took no notice, but went on with his book; and Sir Francis, after taking a turn in the room, paused by the table and said, "It's all true, Driesen, and more."
"Is it?" said Mr. Driesen, and went on reading.
"Come, Driesen, listen to me," exclaimed Sir Francis, "or it may be worse for you. I have determined that I will do what I said, and put the will in his hands the first thing I do on his arrival."
"Wait till to-morrow," said Mr. Driesen, looking up. "Wait till to-morrow, and I'm sure you'll change your mind."
Sir Francis Tyrrell stamped his foot, saying and adding with a blasphemous oath, "Never, Driesen, never! The boy has not only put no confidence in his father in regard to a matter where he knew that father would have promoted his wishes, but has gone and prevailed upon Mrs. Effingham to be silent about the whole transaction; representing to her, I am sure, though she does not say so, that Sir Francis Tyrrell is a weak, unreasonable, foolish, passionate man. Now, Driesen, you have studied the law; will you draw the will, or will you not?"
"Oh! I will draw the will," replied Mr. Driesen, "and take my fee too; and I'll tell you what, Tyrrell, if you intend to make me benefit by it, you must write it all over in your own hand after I've drawn it, for, of course, it would be unpleasant to have--"
"Oh, you draw it up, and I will write it over," replied Sir Francis; "then take that sheet of paper, and now listen."