"Ah, well," said the Rector, rising, "she is a strong woman and still quite young. I have but little chance of surviving her."
"She has made that will in your favour," said Walters sententiously. "And as far as I can tell has never altered it. Even the youngest of us cannot but remember that in the midst of life we are in death. But I must tell you plainly, O'Brien, that your settlement cannot possibly be altered until your youngest child comes of age."
On their way home young Dominic did all that he could to cheer and help his father.
"You must lie down when you get in, dad, and afterwards Maureen and I will give you a right good time on the periwinkles. Think of it, dad—chocolate and strawberries and cream, and Maureen and I! Oh, let's be happy in the present."
"My boy, my boy," said the Rector, "I wish I could. With all my heart I wish I could; but it is just the awful, terrible present which affects me."
Little did either of these two guess that the present was being settled for them, and in the most unlooked-for way.
After visiting her husband on the previous night, Mrs. O'Brien, quite contrary to her usual custom, slept very badly. The Rector's face seemed to haunt her, and a sudden memory haunted her still more. She recalled what she had forgotten during the four years of her married life—the will which she had made in favour of her husband, her own two children, and the young O'Briens, including Maureen. By this will she divided her very considerable property among all these people. She was deeply in love at the time, for the Rector of Templemore was a very fascinating man. Then she had loved him; now she felt that she hated him; but she did not hate him so completely as she hated Maureen. What a fool she had been four years ago! She knew exactly what she must do. This will must be replaced by another. She would go immediately, that very day, to Murphy, and have a new will duly drawn up in case of her death, leaving everything to her children. She knew it could be easily done; and there was after all no great hurry, for the Rector was dying, poor man, and the will only held good if he survived her. As she herself was in the rudest health and was still comparatively young, there was little chance of such a catastrophe taking place, but still she might as well be on the safe side. That will must be replaced by another. It was quite an easy matter.
Behind the old house was the great empty stable-yard, paved with its huge cobble-stones. Here on Sunday the neighbouring gentry put up their horses and carriages in the neglected stables, and laughter and high mirth were the order of the hour; for the gentry, grand as some of them were, had Roman Catholic servants, Protestants being very hard to get and very bad when they were got. The Catholic had the fear of the priest on him; the Protestant feared no man.
Now the stable-yard was empty, but suddenly a young groom crossed the lady's path of vision.
"Hullo, you, Jacobs," she said. "Come here immediately. I want to drive to Kingsala. Get the phaeton ready and put on your livery. Make yourself look as smart as you can."