"Mrs. Daldy, I as well have seen and suffered much since last we met.
If I could not be hoodwinked then by this sham religion, is it likely
that I can be now? I wonder that you waste your time so."
The truth was that she talked in this strain less from hope than habit.
"Then if I must treat you, Miss Vaughan, but as a sister worldling, let
us at least combine, for Providence has seen fit to make our interests
the same."
"How so?" I was doing my utmost to bear with her awhile.
"First, before I tell you anything, have you as keen an eye for the
perception of your own sweet interest as for the discovery of what you
kindly call ’hypocrisy?’ Ah well, it is all for my good."
Her rolling compendious eyes glistened at the thought that she was about
to catch me here. I pretended to be caught already.
"What of it, if I have?"
"Then I will tell you something. Sit down by me, Clara."
"Thank you, I will stand."
"Now first, before I tell you anything, we must make some little
arrangement for our mutual benefit, and then resolve upon united action.
You must give me one little pledge. That being done I will tell you
everything, and it is of the last importance to you."
"Is it about my father?’
"No. It has nothing to do with him; it is about your uncle, who now
lies at the door of death. All, it is all for the best. There is, I
fear, no chance of his recovery, and the disposal of this splendid
property is in our hands, if we know how to play our cards, and if we
act together. But there is no time to be lost. Only think, 15,000*l.*
a year, for it is now worth every farthing of that, besides this
beautiful place. Why, Clara, all the pleasures of life will be at our
feet!"
In her greedy excitement, she forgot all her piety; but I liked her
better so. In a moment she saw that she had laid her wicked heart too
open. In my eyes there was no co-partner flash of avarice.
"What is the matter with my poor uncle?"
"First a paralytic stroke; since that low gastric fever, and entire
prostration. Do you remember when you came to your dear mother’s
funeral?"
"Of course, I do."
"And could you help observing how altered he was even then? The hour he
heard of her death, he was seized with violent illness, yet he would go
out of doors alone, on the very day of the funeral. Something then
excited him; he came home worse, and in the night was visited with a
slight paralytic stroke. However, he quite recovered the use of his
limbs for a time, though never his former spirits--if we can call them
spirits. For several months he went about as usual, except that instead
of a horse he rode a quiet pony. He saw to the property, received the
Michaelmas rents, and invested large sums of money both in land and the
funds; he even commenced some great improvements, for he has always
been, as you know, a most skilful and liberal steward and manager."
"That I never denied. There could not be a better one."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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