"It seems very risky," said Una, with a sigh. "Many fail." "And many succeed. If a man be sober, industrious and observant, he can hardly help succeeding. Beggars must not be choosers, and if I don't use the only talent I've got, what else is there for me to do? I cannot remain here all my life on the bounty of Dr. Larcher. If I did, there would be small chance of our marriage." "I have a little money," she began timidly. "Yes, I know," he answered hastily, "but I'm not the man to live on my wife. It is your dear self I want, not your money; though, as the squire's heiress, you are far above me." Una laughed. "I'm very doubtful about my being an heiress," she said gaily. "It is true I am the squire's next-of-kin, and should inherit, but you know how eccentric he is. The property is not entailed, so he can do as he likes." "You mean he is going to leave it to his other self. Nonsense! That is the phantasy of a madman's brain. No court of law would uphold such a will. How he is going to leave it to himself when his _alter ego_ is not in existence, I don't know." "Nor I," replied Una frankly. "I know, of course, he is mad, quite mad, and that any will made on the principle of his hallucination would be set aside, but lately he has dropped hints about a son." "A son? Why he was never married." "No; but he says he has a son who is somewhere about, and he intends to leave the property to him." "Indeed. Then what becomes of his great scheme of enjoying the money in his re-incarnated body?" "It's a mystery," said Miss Challoner, laughing. "I should think it was, and whatever will he makes now, leaving the property away from you, would not hold good, for he certainly is not in his right senses. You could claim as next-of-kin." "And I certainly should do so," replied Una, with decision. "But it is my opinion he'll live for a good long time yet." "Humph! He's very ill." "Creaking doors hang longest. But do not let us speculate on his death. I would rather we made our own fortune." The use of the plural member had a delicious sound for Reginald, and he felt strongly tempted to there and then kiss his lady-love, but as they were now crossing the bridge and several people were about, he restrained himself until a more convenient season. "Never mind the Squire and his money, dear," he said fondly, "for your sake I am going to be the Mario of the future." "I'm sure you will," replied Una with the trustfulness of love, "you know I lived a long time in Germany and heard a number of good singers--your voice is quite as good as any, if not better." "Flatterer!" "Well, we'll see, Signor Reginald Mario," she said gaily, as they entered the churchyard, "when you are enchanting London audiences you will remember my prediction. You should cross the poor gipsy's hand with silver."