“Yes; but you never think that you may bring it home to me.”
“I never thought that there was any likelihood of my bringing anything to you. We see so little of each other.”
“Well, well, I have been to Isleworth to see your cousin George; he is very ill.”
“You told me that he was ill some time back. What is it that is really the matter with him?”
“Galloping consumption. He cannot last long.”
“Poor man, why does he not go to a warmer climate?”
“I don’t know—that is his affair. But it is a serious matter for me. If he dies under present circumstances, all the Isleworth estates, which are mine by right, must pass away from the family forever.”
“Why must they pass away?”
“Because your grandfather, with a refined ingenuity, made a provision in his will that George was not to leave them back to me, as he was telling me this afternoon he is anxious to do. If he were to die now with a will in my favour, or without any will at all, they would all go to some far away cousins in Scotland.”
“He died of heart-disease, did he not?—my grandfather, I mean?”