“I have assured Mr. Pym that Lilia, also, was more surprised than I was,” said Mr. Mervyn, admiring Hugh’s self-control; for Mr. Pym’s cold, measured tones were far more subtly insulting than his words. “This I have learnt from Mrs. Mervyn, who at the same time assured me that the child had a great regard for you, Paull—quite sufficient to render her obedient to her father’s wishes, when called upon.” “That is all very well, Mr. Mervyn,” said Mr. Pym, dictatorially. “But, as you are aware, until quite lately, my unfortunate brother’s pet whim was to leave his fortune to Roderick, on the condition that he and my niece would marry.” “Of that, sir, I know nothing,” said Mr. Mervyn, deferentially. “But you were always in the house, I understand?” said Mr. Pym, haughtily. “My brother’s almost adoption of my son cannot have escaped your notice.” Mr. Mervyn cleared his throat; and looking down at his boots, brushed some invisible dust from the skirt of his coat. “I have known Sir Roderick change his mind before now; that is all I can say, Mr. Pym,” he said. “Yes—when he had a mind to change,” said the banker. “The question is, if the accident which brought about concussion of the brain did not so seriously affect his mind as to invalidate his opinions from that moment.” Hugh was about to speak, but Mr. Mervyn silenced him with a warning glance. “It may be treason to my dead friend; I don’t know; I certainly hope not,” he said, “but, if there is to be discussion or law-making on the subject of his fortune, I must tell the truth—he had no particular fortune to leave.” Hugh felt as if a heavy weight were uplifted from his heart. “Thank God for that!” he said. The exclamation was so undoubtedly genuine, that Mr. Mervyn smiled—almost laughed—but recollecting the dread presence in the house, checked himself. Mr. Pym settled his eyeglasses on his nose, looked curiously at Hugh as at some new specimen of unclassed animal, then dropped his glasses. “Excuse me, if I think you are mistaken, Mr. Mervyn,” he said, politely. “My brother can scarcely have dissipated so large a capital as that which he withdrew from us when we dissolved partnership.” Mr. Mervyn shrugged his shoulders. “The reading of the Will will doubtless tend to explain matters,” he said. “At present, we are even in the dark as to Sir Roderick’s wishes in regard to his burial.” A minute’s silence, then Mr. Pym rose. “Understand, Mr. Mervyn,” he said, stiffly and pompously, and with evident intention turning his back upon Hugh, “until I, as her nearest male relative, have had several interviews with my niece, I cannot countenance any arrangement for her future which may have been made by my unfortunate brother when in an unsound state of mind.”