CHAPTER THE NINTH. “Well, then, the world's mine oyster, Which I with sword will open. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. When Adam Hartley arrived at his lodgings in the sweet little town of Ryde, his first enquiries were after his comrade. He had arrived last night late, man and horse all in a foam. He made no reply to any questions about supper or the like, but snatching a candle, ran up stairs into his apartment, and shut and double-locked the door. The servants only supposed, that, being something intoxicated, he had ridden hard, and was unwilling to expose himself. Hartley went to the door of his chamber, not without some apprehensions; and after knocking and calling more than once, received at length the welcome return, “Who is there?” On Hartley announcing himself, the door opened, and Middlemas appeared, well dressed, and with his hair arranged and powdered; although, from the appearance of the bed, it had not been slept in on the preceding night, and Richard's countenance, haggard and ghastly, seemed to bear witness to the same fact. It was, however, with an affectation of indifference that he spoke. “I congratulate you on your improvement in worldly knowledge, Adam. It is just the time to desert the poor heir, and to stick by him that is in immediate possession of the wealth.” “I staid last night at General Witherington's,” answered Hartley, “because he is extremely ill.” “Tell him to repent of his sins, then,” said Richard. “Old Gray used to say, a doctor had as good a title to give ghostly advice as a parson. Do you remember Doctor Dulberry, the minister, calling him an interloper? Ha! Ha! Ha!” “I am surprised at this style of language from one in your circumstances.” “Why, ay,” said Middlemas, with a bitter smile--“it would be difficult to most men to keep up their spirits, after gaining and losing father, mother, and a good inheritance, all in the same day. But I had always a turn for philosophy.” “I really do not understand you, Mr. Middlemas.” “Why, I found my parents yesterday, did I not?” answered the young man. “My mother, as you know, had waited but that moment to die, and my father to become distracted; and I conclude both were contrived purposely to cheat me of my inheritance, as he has taken up such a prejudice against me.” “Inheritance?” repeated Hartley, bewildered by Richard's calmness, and half suspecting that the insanity of the father was hereditary in the family. “In Heaven's name, recollect yourself, and get rid of these hallucinations. What inheritance are you dreaming of?” “That of my mother, to be sure, who must have inherited old Moncada's wealth--and to whom should it descend, save to her children?--I am the eldest of them--that fact cannot be denied.” “But consider, Richard--recollect yourself.” “I do,” said Richard; “and what then?” “Then you cannot but remember,” said Hartley, “that unless there was a will in your favour, your birth prevents you from inheriting.”