"'Moreover, the sum of five hundred thousand pounds, now vested in the funds, shall be paid to either Maurice or Peter Vibart aforesaid, if either shall, within one calendar year, become the husband of the Lady Sophia Sefton of Cambourne.'"
"Good God!" exclaimed Sir Richard.
"'Failing which,'" read Mr. Grainger, "'the said sum, namely, five hundred thousand pounds, shall be bestowed upon such charity or charities as the trustees shall select. Signed by me, this tenth day of April, eighteen hundred and—, GEORGE VIBART. Duly witnessed by ADAM PENFLEET, MARTHA TRENT."'
Here Mr. Grainger's voice stopped, and I remember, in the silence that followed, the parchment crackled very loudly as he folded it precisely and laid it on the table before him. I remember also that Sir Richard was swearing vehemently under his breath as he paced to and fro between me and the window.
"And that is all?" I inquired at last.
"That," said Mr. Grainger, not looking at me now, "is all."
"The Lady Sophia," murmured Sir Richard as if to himself, "the Lady
Sophia!" And then, stopping suddenly before me in his walk, "Oh,
Peter!" said he, clapping his hand down upon my shoulder, "oh, Peter,
that settles it; you're done for, boy—a crueller will was never made."
"Marriage!" said I to myself. "Hum!"
"A damnable iniquity," exclaimed Sir Richard, striding up and down the room again.
"The Lady Sophia Sefton of Cambourne!" said I, rubbing my chin.