"I know," he thought, and he laughed bitterly. "To my dear old friend, Peter Praed, M.D., my cellar of wine, the Turner picture, and one hundred pounds to buy a mourning ring and as recompense for acting as my executor. To my servants fifty pounds each and six months' wages. To my son Jessop the interest on bank-stock to produce five hundred pounds per annum, paid in quarterly dividends. To my beloved son, Clive Reed, the whole of my remaining property in bank-stock, shares, and my interest in the `White Virgin' mine in the county of Derby. Hah! yes,"

he said aloud, "and it is good, or the old man would not have taken it up as he has. Yes, it is no balloon business puffed into a state of inflation, but a genuine, solid affair. All to him, and he is co-executor with the Doctor. He said he had made him so months ago; I am nowhere. And that's my father!"

He bit off a piece of the end of his cigar and spat it out angrily, but started up as a thought struck him.

"No, that's not all," he muttered, as his eyes flashed,--"Janet!"

"Of course," he said, with a long-drawn breath, full of satisfaction, "he would not forget her. He worshipped the girl, and he would leave her quite independent of Clive. A hundred thousand, if he has left her a penny. The artful little jade: she played her cards right with the old man."

He started from the chair, threw the cigar-end into the fireplace, and hurried up to the drawing-room, to find it empty, and rang the bell.

"Where is Miss Praed?" he asked, as the servant appeared.

"She was fetched up into poor master's room, sir."

Jessop Reed went back to the study, and shut himself in, his brow contracted more and more, and lighting another cigar, he lay back smoking and thinking intently, but with his face less clouded by anger, as he felt more and more satisfied that he was right about his father's disposition of his property, and over his own plans and those of his friend Wrigley.

"There is such a thing as salvage when there is a fire," he said, with a laugh which disfigured his handsome features; "and it comes in too after a wreck. Well, we shall see, my dear brother; matters may balance themselves fairly after all."

He started almost out of his chair just then, for a hand was laid upon his shoulder, and there stood pretty, fair-haired Lyddy, with her eyes red and swollen with weeping.

"How did you get here?" cried Jessop angrily.

"I opened the door, dear, and came in softly; didn't you hear me?"

"Hear you? No; and how many more times am I to tell you not to call me dear?"

"Oh, Jessop, don't, don't!" cried the poor girl, bursting into tears.

"Poor master! he's dying fast, they say, and there'll be no need to hide anything from him now."

"But--but--"

"I was on the staircase watching for you, dear, and you were shut up here so long, instead of being with master, that I was afraid you were ill."

"Well, I'm not; so now go, there's a good girl; and wait a bit till I've settled something about you."

"Settled something about me, dear! Why, as soon as poor dear master's dead you'll be master then, and can do as you like. You won't be the first gentleman who has married a servant."

"Oh no, of course not," he replied, with a bitter sarcasm in his tone.

"And you will make me happy then, won't you, dear? For I am so miserable when I see you courting Miss Janet, I could find it in my heart to go some night to the Serpentine and end it all."

"Will you hold your tongue?" he cried, with a shiver. "Do you think I haven't enough to worry me as it is? Now, my good girl, is this a time for you to come bothering me?"

"I'm not a good girl," she replied with spirit; "and it's cruel of you, in your man's selfishness, to talk of my bothering you. No, no, no, I won't be angry with you," she cried, hurriedly changing her tone. "And now, dear, that you can do as you like, you will not think of Miss Janet any more."

"Wait," he said sullenly; "and now go. Do you think I want the servants to be tattling about your being shut up here?"

"Let them tattle," cried the girl proudly. "Let them, if they dare.

They shall soon find that I'm their mistress. Tattle, indeed!"

"You heard what I said. Now, then, go away from here at once. There's a ten-pound note. Don't bother about your pay, but get away from here, for your dignity's sake. Your box can be fetched at any time. Go down home."

"Go down home!" said the girl in a low voice, full of suppressed anger; "home, eh? so as to be out of your way now? No," she cried, flashing out into a fit of pa.s.sion; "it's to get rid of me. I'm in your way now that you are going to be master, and you don't mean to marry me, as you've promised a hundred times. I know: it's Miss Janet."

"Lyddy, don't be a fool," cried Jessop, in a tone full of suppressed pa.s.sion. "Now, go, there's a good girl. It's all for the best. Hush!

you will be heard."

"Then every one shall hear me," she cried, tearing up the note he had placed in her hand and flinging it in his face. "No; I won't be a fool any longer. You're as good as master now; you've promised to marry me, and I will not be packed off in disgrace. You're master here, Jessop, and I'm mistress; and come what may, I will not stir."

She flung her arms round him as she spoke, and in his rage he raised his doubled fist to strike her down, but it fell to his side.

"Mr Jessop Reed is not master here," said a stern voice at the door, "and you are not the mistress."

Jessop flung the girl from him, so that she staggered, and would have fallen heavily, had not Clive, who had opened the door softly to come and sit with his brother, caught her in his arms.

"Jessop," he said coldly, "have you not done enough to insult our father without this miserable disgraceful episode, now while he is lying upstairs almost at his last."

"The woman's mad," cried Jessop. "Crazy with grief or drink, I suppose.

I don't know what she means."

"I'm not, I'm not, Mr Clive," cried the girl, bursting into a violent fit of weeping.

"Lyddy," cried Jessop.

"I don't care; I must, I will speak. He has promised to marry me again and again, and now that master is dying and he is going to be free to do as he likes, he is trying to pack me off--to send me home, and I'd sooner go and jump off the bridges at once."

"Jessop!" cried Clive, "how can you be such a scoundrel?"

"Scoundrel yourself!" shouted Jessop furiously. "The woman's an impostor; it's a hatched-up breach of promise case to get money--a fraud."

"No, no, no," cried Lyddy wildly, as she flung herself at Clive's feet, and caught and clung to his hands. "It's true--all true. Dear Mr Clive, don't, don't you forsake me. Don't you turn against me now."

"Doctor! you here!" cried Clive, as he became conscious of the fact that they were not alone; and he made a step to cross the room to where Doctor Praed was standing with his child's arm locked in his. But, at the first movement, Lyddy uttered a piteous cry, clung to him wildly, and suffered herself to be dragged over, and half lie sobbing hysterically on the carpet.

"Yes, sir, I am here," said the Doctor gravely.

"But my father?" cried Clive excitedly.

"Is spared this fresh trouble, sir," said the Doctor coldly.

"Dead!" cried Clive, in a voice fall of agony, and he turned to his brother.

Jessop was drawing Janet's arm through his as she gazed with flashing eyes at her betrothed.

"Come away," Jessop whispered. "Janet, dearest, this is no place for you."

CHAPTER TWELVE.