"Rupert was not born then, and his succession was afterwards barred by my father's will. Through deceit, I grant you: but I had no hand in that deceit. I named my boy Trevlyn; I regarded him as the heir; and when the Squire died and his will was opened, it was found he had bequeathed all to Chattaway. If you think I have ever once faltered in my hope--my resolve--to see Trevlyn some time displace the Chattaways, you do not know much of human nature." "I grant what you say," replied George; "that, of the two, Trevlyn has more right to it than Cris Chattaway. But has it ever occurred to you to ask, _how_ Cris is to be displaced?" Mrs. Ryle did not answer. She sat beating her foot upon the ottoman, as one whose mind is not at ease. George continued: "It appears to me the wildest possible fallacy, the bare idea of Trevlyn's being able to displace Cris Chattaway in the succession. If we lived in the barbarous ages, when inheritances were wrested by force of arms, when the turn of a battle decided the ownership of a castle, then there might be a chance that Cris might lose Trevlyn Hold. As it is, there is none. There is not the faintest shadow of a chance that it can go to any one beside Cris. Failing his death--and he is strong and healthy--he _must_ succeed. Why, even were Rupert--forgive my alluding to him again--to urge _his_ claims, there would be no hope for him. Mr. Chattaway legally holds the estate; he has willed it to his son; and that son cannot be displaced by others." Her foot beat more impatiently; a heavier line settled on her brow. Often and often had the arguments now stated by her step-son occurred to her aching brain. George spoke again. "And therefore, the improbability--I may say the impossibility--of Treve's ever succeeding renders it unwise that he should have been taught to build upon it. Far better, mother, the thought had never been so much as whispered to him." "Why do you look at it in this unfavourable light?" she cried angrily. "Because it is the correct light. The property is Mr. Chattaway's--legally his, and it cannot be taken from him. It will be Cris's after him. It is simply madness to think otherwise." "Cris may die," said Mrs. Ryle sharply. "If Cris died to-morrow, Treve would be no nearer succession. Chattaway has daughters, and would will it to each in turn rather than to Treve. He can will it away as he pleases. It was left to him absolutely." "My father was mad when he made such a will in favour of Chattaway! He could have been nothing less. I have thought so many times." "But it was made, and cannot now be altered. Will you pardon me for saying that it would have been better had you accepted the state of affairs, and endeavoured to reconcile yourself to them?" "_Better?_"