CHAPTER IV. RALPH RAYMOND'S HEIR.
In the revelation which had been made him by Ralph Raymond, Paul Morton found fruitful subject of meditation. To begin with, he had been disappointed to find a young life between himself and the estate which he coveted. But, on the other hand, that estate was twenty thousand dollars larger than he supposed; and, moreover, as the boy's guardian, he would have in his own hands the control of the whole for nearly seven years, and be paid in the meantime a handsome sum for his trouble. Besides, many things might happen in seven years. The boy was young and healthy, so his father said, but life is uncertain in all cases. He might die, and in that event, the entire property without reserve, would fall to him—Paul Morton. The situation, therefore, was far from being as discouraging as it might have been.
The next morning Paul Morton was sitting at the breakfast table with his wife opposite him. As nothing has yet been said of Mrs. Morton, a few words of description may not be inappropriate.
Mrs. Morton, then, was ten years younger than her husband. She had belonged to a proud but poor family, and had married from no impulse of affection, but because she considered Mr. Morton a rich man who could give her a luxurious home. No sympathy need be wasted upon her, for she had very little heart, and lived only for ostentation. There had been very little domestic harmony between the two. She had shown herself lavishly extravagant, even beyond her husband's means, and any tendency on his part to curb her extravagance was met by biting sarcasm, and an exhibition of ill temper which soon compelled him to surrender at discretion.
Such was the ill-assorted couple who sat at the breakfast table on the morning of which I am speaking.
Mr. Morton, of whose personal appearance I have not yet spoken, was in appearance fifty-four years of age, though he was really several years younger. He had lost nearly all his hair, retaining only a few locks on either side of his head. There was a furtive look about his eyes calculated to inspire distrust. He seemed reluctant to look one full in the face. On the whole the impression given by his features was unfavorable. They seemed to indicate a mean, ignoble disposition, so truly do the inner qualities mark their impress on the face.
"Well, Mr. Morton," said his wife, leaning back in her chair, "have you brought me the money I asked for yesterday?"
"No," said Mr. Morton uneasily, for he knew that this reply would elicit a storm.
"And why not, I should like to know?" she exclaimed, with flashing eyes. "Don't pretend to say you forgot it, for I won't believe any such nonsense."