I laughed. At all events I was a more healthy subject, to look at, than my cousin, who this morning looked yellow instead of pale.
'The span of life,' the attorney went on, 'accorded to my justly esteemed client, will probably be that usually assigned to those who honour their parents—say eighty, or even ninety. You, sir, will probably be cut off at forty. I believe that it is the common lot in your class. Above all things, do not build upon the chances of this reversion.'
Suddenly the words I had heard came back to me. What were they? 'We will make him sell his reversion.' 'Sell his reversion.' Then the reversion must not be sold.
Mr. Probus went on too long. You may destroy the effect of your words by too much repetition.
'A shadowy chance,' he said, 'a shadowy chance.'
'I don't know. Why should not my cousin die before me? Besides, it means that my father in cutting me off would leave a door for restitution.'
'Only an imaginary door, sir—not a real door.'
'A very real door. I shall live as long as I can. My cousin will do as he pleases. Mr. Probus, the "shadowy chance," as you call it, is a chance that is worth a large sum of money if I would sell my reversion.' Mr. Probus started and looked suspicious. 'But I shall not sell it. I shall wait. Matthew might die to-morrow—to-day, even—'
'Fie, Sir—oh, fie!—to desire the death of your cousin! This indeed betokens a bad heart—a bad heart. How dreadful is the passion of envy! How soul-destroying is the thirst for gold!'
I rose. I knew the worst.