Mordaunt turned to the law report in the Times, and there read, at large, the collapse of the first day. It had been expected it would extend over several, but Mr. Eagles's testimony was so complete and crushing that Giles Tracy's counsel had no choice but to withdraw. Unfortunately for him, this withdrawal was not before certain indelible stains had been left on the young man's character by the solicitor's evidence as to the cause which led to the estrangement between the testator and his favorite nephew, an estrangement which hardened into virulent aversion as time revealed, more and more, Giles's true character. At the period of Eagles's last interview with his client, he had no idea Mr. Tracy could ever be persuaded to add a codicil to his will leaving Giles twenty thousand pounds. He felt sure that nothing but Mr. Lawrence's strong representations could have brought him to do this. Mr. Eagles had made no less than four wills for Mr. Tracy. He believed all had been destroyed but this last one, in which he left everything to Mr. Lawrence. Mr. Tracy did not wish this to be known—least of all by the nephew he resolved to make his heir—hence his fiction about the hospital.
When Mordaunt had read rapidly the half-column which contained this report, and had handed it to Mrs. Frampton, he sat brooding until she had finished. The silence was broken by her saying,
"H'm! It is most unfortunate! I mean unfortunate just now, when one wants to distract her mind from the subject. The man has behaved disgracefully to her, at all events, and the sooner she forgets him the better."
"Yes, of course; that's all right. But I must show her the paper."
"I don't know what to say to that. She looks so much brighter lately. I hope she is beginning to forget. I watch her when she little thinks I am doing so, and I see a great change for the better. I am afraid this news will undo it all, by turning her thoughts again entirely upon this wretch, whom I hate and abominate—for he has been the only cause of real dissension between Gracey and me."
"Can't help that, aunty. She must know. There's no help for it. It's an awful bore. Confound it! everything seems to go wrong since we came to California!"
Then, with a sigh which appeared to have its birth in his boots, and went quivering up his frame, he rose and walked down the car to where his sister sat.
"Look here, Gracey. Here's something you'll be glad to read. I don't like the fellow. I think he behaved like a cad, though I stuck up for him that night at Mrs. Reid's, just to please you. But, of course, I'm glad to know he is not a scoundrel."
Her eyes sparkling, her face a-flush with excitement, she had seized the paper from his hand, even while he spoke, and her eyes ran rapidly down the column to which he pointed. When she had done, a sweet smile played upon her lips. She leaned her head upon her brother's shoulder, and whispered,
"I never doubted him about this, or—or anything else, dear. You must never abuse him again—never—never, Mordy. He is the soul of honor, and of all that is noble and high-minded. His very faults are grand faults. You will learn to see that soon, dear—you will, indeed. And so will aunty, when—when it all comes right."