The old servants of Raynham were all remembered, and some curious old plate and gold snuff-boxes were left to Mr. Wargrave, the rector, and Gilbert Ashburne. This was all. Five hundred a year was the amount by which Reginald had profited by the death of a generous kinsman. By the terms of Sir Oswald's will the estates of Lionel and Douglas Dale would revert to Reginald Eversleigh in case the owners should die without direct heirs. If either of these young men were to die unmarried, his brother would succeed to his estate, worth five thousand a year. But if both should die, Reginald Eversleigh would become the owner of double that amount. It was the merest chance, the shadow of a chance, for the lives of both young men were better than his own, inasmuch as both had led healthful and steadier lives than the dissipated Reginald Eversleigh. But even this poor chance was something. "They may die," he thought; "death lurks in every bush that borders the highway of life. They or both may die, and I may regain the wealth that should have been mine." He looked at the two young men. Lionel, the elder, was the handsomer of the two. He was fair, with brown curling hair, and frank blue eyes. Reginald, as he looked at him, thought bitterly, "I must indeed be the very fool of hope and credulity to fancy he will not marry. But, if he were safe, I should not so much fear Douglas." The younger, Douglas, was a man whom some people would have called plain. But the dark sallow face, with its irregular features, was illuminated by an expression of mingled intelligence and amiability, which possessed a charm for all judges worth pleasing. Lionel was the clergyman, Douglas the lawyer, or rather law-student, for the glory of his maiden brief was yet to come. How Reginald envied these fortunate kinsmen! He hated them with passionate hate. He looked from them to Honoria, the woman against whom he had plotted--the woman who triumphed in spite of him--for he could not imagine that grief for a dead husband could have any place in the heart of a woman who found herself mistress of such a domain as Raynham, and its dependencies. Lady Eversleigh's astonishment was unbounded. This will placed her in even a loftier position than that which she had occupied when possessed of the confidence and affection of her husband. For her pride there was some consolation in this thought; but the triumph, which was sweet to the proud spirit, afforded no balm for the wounded heart. He was gone--he whose love had made her mistress of that wealth and splendour. He was gone from her for ever, and he had died believing her false. In the midst of her triumph the widow bowed her head upon her hands, and sobbed convulsively. The tears wrung from her in this moment were the first she had shed that day, and they were very bitter. Reginald Eversleigh watched her with scorn and hatred in his heart.