“I always understood he had made his will, Mildred. He made a handsome settlement upon—his wife?”
“It is as I tell you, Chetwynd. Mr. Carteret was alone with him in his room for nearly two hours this morning; and I believe he was directed to prepare the will without delay, and to return with it this evening.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed Chetwynd, gloomily. “That bodes ill to me—to both of us, in fact. He will leave all his property to Teresa—to his wife, I am certain of it.”
“Nothing of the sort, Chetwynd!” cried his sister. “Come into the house, and see him.”
“If he has made up his mind to commit this act of folly and injustice, all I can say won't prevent it. Ah, here is Carteret!” he exclaimed, as a mail phaeton entered the lodge gate, and drove up to the hall door.
The attorney and his clerk descended; and, leaving his carriage to the care of a groom, Mr. Carteret rang the bell.
“Come in at once, Chetwynd, and you will be able to see papa before Mr. Carteret is admitted. Come with me—quick!”
Chetwynd suffered himself to be persuaded, and passed through the drawing-room window with his sister.
But he was too late. The attorney and his clerk had already gone upstairs.