Domestic fiction; Impostors and imposture -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; New England -- Fiction; Wills -- Fiction
“It does not matter now,” Rex said. “I was mistaken, and I tried
religiously to manufacture a love for Irene, but I failed dismally.
Still I believe I should have made the leap if something had not
happened to open my eyes. Rena is the real one, and if I know how a
fellow feels when he is in love, I am in love with her and am going to
tell her so. Hold on, don’t get excited, but hear me out!” he continued,
as Tom sprang up, exclaiming:
“This is too much, even from you. Why, she belongs to me.”
“That may be, but I shall propose to her just the same,” Rex said,
adding, as Tom began to pace the room hurriedly:
“Do you know the conditions of Sandy McPherson’s will?”
“I should think so. I have heard them often enough,” Tom growled, and
Rex went on:
“Then as a lawyer will you tell me what is to be done with that hundred
thousand dollars if Rena marries you without my ever having said a word
to her on the subject of matrimony?”
“It will go to thunder for what I care,” Tom replied, still excited and
impatient.
“But I care,” Rex rejoined, “I have not a superabundance of money and
would not object to a little of Sandy’s, especially as Colin is willing.
So I shall propose to Rena, and if she refuses me I get the eighty
thousand and Rena gets twenty thousand. That is plain without a lawyer,
if I understand the will. If we are indifferent to each other we get ten
thousand apiece and the rest goes to the South Sea Islanders, or
somewhere. I’ve been reading the will over and am posted, and do not
intend to let all that money slip through my fingers. Do you see?”
Tom had stopped walking and with his hands jammed into his pockets stood
looking at Rex, wondering if he really were in his right mind. It was
certainly a very different Rex from the one he had known. He must have
met with a change, and Tom doubted if the change had improved him.
“Would you like to read the will?” Rex asked, taking it from under his
pillow.
Tom shook his head and said:
“Do you expect Rena to accept you?”
“Why, no, of course not,” Rex answered. “But I shall give her a chance
to decline. I can’t earn eighty thousand dollars easier.”
He certainly was demented, with a different kind of craziness from that
which had affected him when his fever was on and the eye was after him,
and Tom felt disturbed and indignant that Rena was to be made a tool by
which Rex was to achieve a fortune, and he said so in plain language,
adding that he never thought Rex would do so ungentlemanly a thing, and
he did not like it.
Rex laughed good-humoredly and suggested that he had been made a dupe,
if not a tool, and turn about was fair play.
“That may be, but I wouldn’t insult Rena, and make her the cat’s paw by
which you are to get a fortune. I’d like eighty thousand dollars myself,
but I would not hurt Rena’s feelings to get it. No, I wouldn’t!” Tom
said, leaving the room and banging the door, while Rex chuckled over
what he called his experiment, and read the will again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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