"When do you expect Mr. Napier?" I asked.
"The long-backed odious creature will call here to-morrow," answered Julia.
"I wish something else could be done," said I hastily, sympathising in her disgust. "Shall I write to your uncle, Lord Carysfort?"
"Do not mention that unfeeling wretch!" exclaimed Julia. "A legacy has been left me, which I cannot help thinking has been unfairly appropriated."
"Have you applied to his lordship on that subject?" I inquired.
"I have written to him twice," answered Julia, "and my second letter was answered by his lordship in these words, 'The person from whom you expected a legacy showed a becoming horror and disgust at your vile profligate conduct by withdrawing your name from his will.'"
"Rely on it," said I, "that honourable uncle of yours has taken due care of your property. But what can be expected from one thus destitute of every manly feeling of compassion towards a poor, fallen, defenceless relative!"
Julia absolutely sobbed aloud. I never saw her thus affected; for she was not given to the melting mood. To change the conversation, I asked her what had become of another noble relative.
"He has paid nearly a thousand pounds for me, and declares he can do no more," replied Julia.
"No matter," said I, "Napier is your man."