There were expectations too. Mrs. Middleton was rich, and though some of her property would revert to her husband's family, Hardwicke knew that she had saved a considerable sum. He had no doubt that those savings and her brother's ten thousand pounds would go to Sissy, and consequently to Percival.
And lastly he looked at the new owner of Brackenhill. No, Mr. Hardwicke did not pity Mr. Percival Thorne.
All these thoughts had flashed through his mind as he folded the paper and laid it down. Mrs. Middleton broke the silence. "But Percival—" she exclaimed in utter bewilderment: "I don't understand. What does Percival have?"
"Nothing," said the young man quickly, lifting his head and facing her with a brave smile.
"Nothing? It isn't possible! It isn't right!"
"That will was made before ever I came here. It doesn't mean any unkindness to me, for he didn't know me."
"But did he never make another?—Horace!—Oh, Mr. Hardwicke, you know Godfrey never meant this! That was what his letter was about, then?"
"He intended to make some change, no doubt," said Hardwicke.
"Perhaps Mr. Percival Thorne would like to dispute the will." It was evident that Mrs. James perfectly comprehended the position. Aunt Harriet looked helplessly at her boy, unable to understand his silence.
Horace, though unconscious of the glance, rose suddenly to his feet. "I want to understand," he began in a high thin voice—an unnatural voice—which all at once grew hoarse.