"My will has been made since my marriage," continued Sir Oswald, without noticing his nephew's interruption; "any previous will would, indeed, have been invalidated by that event Two-thirds--more than two-thirds--of my property has been left to my wife, who will be a very rich woman when I am dead and gone. Should she have a son, the landed estates will, of course, go to him; but in any case, Lady Eversleigh will be mistress of a large fortune. I leave five thousand a year to each of my nephews. As for you, Reginald, you will, perhaps, consider yourself bitterly wronged; but you must, in justice, remember that you have been your own enemy. The annuity of two hundred a year which you now possess will, after my death, become an income of five hundred a year, derived from a small estate called Morton Grange, in Lincolnshire. You have nothing more than a modest competency to hope for, therefore; and it rests with yourself to win wealth and distinction by the exercise of your own talents." The pallor of Reginald Eversleigh's face alone revealed the passion which consumed him as he received these most unwelcome statements from his uncle's lips. Fortunately for the young man, Sir Oswald did not observe his countenance, for at this moment Lady Eversleigh appeared on the terrace-walk outside the open window of her husband's study, and he hurried to her. "What are to be our plans for this afternoon, darling?" he asked. "I have transacted all my business, and am quite at your service for the rest of the day." "Very well, then, you cannot please me better than by showing me some more of the beauties of your native county." "You make that proposition because you know it pleases me, artful puss; but I obey. Shall we ride or drive? Perhaps, as the afternoon is hot, we had better take the barouche," continued Sir Oswald, while Honoria hesitated. "Come to luncheon. I will give all necessary orders." They went to the dining-room, whither Reginald accompanied them. Already he had contrived to banish the traces of emotion from his countenance: but his uncle's words were still ringing in his ears. Five hundred a year!--he was to receive a pitiful five hundred a year; whilst his cousins--struggling men of the world, unaccustomed to luxury and splendour--were each to have an income of five thousand. And this woman--this base, unknown, friendless creature, who had nothing but her diabolical beauty to recommend her--was to have a splendid fortune!