"No, I should not be disappointed, for I should not expect too much. It would be a pleasure to look upon the boy's face, and think my lost Julian was again before me." "The old fool!" muttered Hugo under his breath. "Will he never quit harping on that boy?" "You must remember that he has been brought up in a circus, amid very objectionable associations, uncle," he said aloud. "What can be expected under such circumstances?" "What is his name?" "His circus name is Robert Rudd." The old man repeated it softly to himself. The same day he sent for a lawyer, and professed his intention to modify his will. Hugo was alarmed. "Can he be going to leave anything to that boy?" he asked himself. He would have liked to have asked his uncle, but only contrived to hint a question, to which the old man replied evasively. In reality, he had appended a codicil to his will, bequeathing the sum of ten thousand dollars "to the young circus rider, generally known as Robert Rudd," and did not like to mention it to Hugo lest the latter should remonstrate with him, and the old man felt too weak to argue. "There will be enough left for Hugo," he said to himself. "Ten thousand dollars is but a small part of my property." "It is very lucky," thought Hugo, "that I made arrangements with Fitzgerald to dispose of the boy, in case my uncle has done anything foolish in his will. It will save litigation and trouble." He looked at the old man—frail, feeble, apparently on the verge of the grave—and reflected with impatience that as he looked now he had looked for five years past. His hold on life was tenacious. "Good heavens! He may live for five or ten years yet!" thought Hugo. "He looks as if a breath would blow him away; yet he encumbers the earth year after year, holding one in a detestable slavery to his whims and caprices. I shall be an old man myself, or almost one, before Chestnutwood falls into my possession; but when it does"—and his eye flashed with hopeful anticipation, and he walked with a prouder gait—"when it does I will live!" One day Hugo was just getting ready for a solitary walk when the servant announced, "A gentleman to see you, sir." "A gentleman? What name?" asked Hugo. "He said his name was Fitzgerald, sir." "Fitzgerald?" exclaimed Hugo, his voice betraying the excitement he felt. "Tell him I will be with him at once." He entered the drawing-room, and Fitzgerald arose from a sofa on which he had seated himself. "Ah! Fitzgerald!" said Hugo, with assumed indifference. "Yes, it is I. I have—" "Hush! I am about to take a walk about the place. You can join me, and whatever you have to say, you can say more freely as we walk." "Very well, sir; it is immaterial to me." Hugo took his hat, and the two sauntered along the broad walk till they reached a point at some distance from the mansion. "Mr. Fitzgerald, what have you got to tell me?" asked Hugo eagerly. "The boy won't trouble you any more," answered Fitzgerald, sententiously.