“No, I believe not, except an impossible one,” and Mr. Fraser smiled a rather forced smile.
“What is that?” asked Angela carelessly.
“Well, that he should—should marry you before he dies. At least, you know, he says that that is the only way in which he could legally transfer the estates.”
Angela started and turned pale.
“Then I am afraid the estates will never be transferred. How would that help him?”
“Well, he says he could then enter into a nominal sale of the estates to your father and settle the money on you.”
“And why could he not do this without marrying me?”
“I don’t know, I don’t understand much about these things, I am not a business man; but it is impossible for some reason or another. But of course it is absurd. Good night, my dear. Don’t overdo it in the parish.”
Another week passed without any particular news of George’s illness, except that he was getting weaker, when one day Lady Bellamy appeared at the Abbey House, where she had not been since that dreadful Christmas Day. Angela felt quite cold when she saw her enter, and her greeting was as cold as herself.
“I hope that you bring me no more bad news,” she said.