“I don’t know, uncle, about it; it’s a pretty hard task to set a fellow, to avenge another man’s injuries, especially when he’s in no way concerned himself.”
“Perhaps you’re more concerned in it than you think,” replied his uncle, eying him wickedly.
“I should like the fortune well enough, but I thought—I have always thought I was to have that anyway.”
“Oh, really, young man, have you? Pray, who informed you to that effect?” sneered the squire.
Ralph blushed angrily.
“I have been brought up with that hope always held out to me. If any one is to blame in the matter I think it’s you,” he retorted.
“Indeed! But let me ask you, have you any conscientious scruples about undertaking this affair?”
“Hang it, no!” answered Ralph. “Conscience and I don’t trouble each other much. But how do I know but you may get a grudge against me sometime, and then where will the fortune go?”
“Very well, young man, you can do as you choose about it,” replied the squire, bitterly. “But as long as a fortune of half a million does not seem to tempt you, perhaps I can whisper a word in your ear that will have more weight with you; and you will be glad to seek revenge on your own account.”
“Well, what is it?” impatiently demanded the boy.