"It's all right, I dare say," said Mr. Marston, vaguely, looking from man to man uncertainly. "I expected a will, of course: I don't suppose I have a friend among you, gentlemen, why should I? I am sure I have some enemies. I don't know what country attorneys, and nincompoops, and Golden Friars' bumpkins may think of it, but I know what the world will think, that I'm swindled by d—d conspiracy, and that that old man, who's in his grave, has behaved like a villain."
"Oh, Mr. Marston, your dead uncle!" said the good vicar, lifting his hand in deprecation, with gentle horror. "You wouldn't, you can't!"
"What the devil is it to you, sir?" cried Marston, with a look as if he could have struck him. "I say it's all influence, and d—d juggling—I'm not such a simpleton. No one expected, of course, that opportunities like those should not have been improved. The thing's transparent. I wish you joy, Mr. Blount, of your five hundred a year, and you, Mr. Jarlcot, of your approaching management of the estates and the money. If you fancy a will like that, turning his own nephew adrift on the world in favour of methodists and attorneys, and a girl he never saw till the other day, is to pass unchallenged, you're very much mistaken; it's just the thing that always happens when an old man like that dies—there's a will of course—every one understands it. I'll have you all where you won't like."
Mrs. Shackleton, with her mouth pursed, her nose high in the air, and her brows knit over a vivid pair of eyes, was the only one of the group who seemed ready to explode in reply; Mr. Blount looked simply shocked and confounded; the vicar maintained his bewildered and appealing stare; Mr. Spaight's eyebrows were elevated above his spectacles, and his mouth opened, as he leaned forward his long nose; Mr. Jarlcot's brow looked thunderous, and his chops a little flushed; all were staring for some seconds in silence on Mr. Marston, whose concluding sentences had risen almost to a shriek, with a laugh running through it.
"I think, Mr. Marston," said Jarlcot, after a couple of efforts, "you would do well to—to consider, a little, the bearing of your language; I don't think you can quite see its force."
"I wish you could—I mean it; and I'm d—d but you shall feel it too! You shall hear of me sooner than you all think. I'm not a fellow to be pigeoned so simply."
With these words, he walked into the hall, and a few moments after they heard the door shut with a violent clang.
A solemn silence reigned in the room for a little time; these peaceable people seemed stunned by the explosion.
"Evasit, erupit," murmured the vicar, sadly, raising his hands, and shaking his head. "How very painful!"
"I don't wonder—I make great allowances," said Mr. Blount, "I have been very unhappy myself, ever since it was ascertained that he had not executed the new will. I am afraid the young man will never consent to accept a part of my annuity—he is so spirited."