“But his conscience, Eleanor, his conscience! He will be so unhappy—he will be so miserable.”
Laura disengaged herself from the loving arm that had supported her, and started to her feet.
“Eleanor!” she cried, “where is he? Let me go to him! It is not too late to undo all this, perhaps. He can put back the real will, can’t he?”
“No, the real will is lost.”
“He can destroy the false one, then.”
“I don’t think he will have the chance of doing that, Laura. If his heart is not hardened against remorse, he will have plenty of time for repentance between this and the time when the will is read. If he wishes to undo what he has done, he may make a confession to his aunts, and throw himself upon their mercy. They are the only persons likely to be injured by what he has done. The money was left to them in the original will, no doubt.”
“He shall confess, Eleanor!” cried Laura. “I will throw myself upon my knees at his feet, and I won’t leave him till he promises me to undo what he has done. His aunts will keep the secret, for their own sakes. They wouldn’t like the world to know that their nephew could do such a wicked thing. He shall confess to them, and let them have the fortune, and then we can be married, and then we shall be as happy together as if he had never done wrong. Let me go to him.”
“Not to-night, Laura. Look at the clock.”
Eleanor pointed to the dial of the timepiece opposite them. It was half-past two o’clock.
“I will see him to-morrow morning, then, Eleanor. I will see him.”