“Until the bailiffs arrived; which would be surprisingly soon, I should imagine!” said Uncle Bernard drily. “You have not much idea of the responsibility of wealth, my dear. I prefer not to discuss the point, however. My own views, which are peculiar, are set forth in the Will which is lying in the desk in my room.”
The four young people looked up sharply. The same question was on the lips of each; but it was Victor’s eagerness which first found words—
“The Will?—Now! But surely—?”
Mr Farrell’s lips twisted into a grim smile, as if he had of deliberate purpose provoked their curiosity.
“You are surprised that I have already come to a conclusion. It is by no means unchangeable; but, in the extremely precarious condition of my health, I do not think it safe to delay matters indefinitely. This Will was drawn up last week, and is based upon my impressions up to the present time. If I live it is extremely likely that I may alter my mind once and again; but it should be a comfort to you all to feel that, at the worst, I am not unprepared.”
He looked from one to the other with the same faint, mocking smile, his gaze lingering on Ruth’s troubled face. Her eyes expressed a questioning so intense as to be almost wild; then slowly they fell before his, and a crimson tide rushed over her cheeks.