"What the devil is it to you, sir?" cried Marston, with a look as if he could have struck him. "I say it's all influence, and d--d juggling--I'm not such a simpleton. No one expected, of course, that opportunities like those should not have been improved. The thing's transparent. I wish you joy, Mr. Blount, of your five hundred a year, and you, Mr. Jarlcot, of your approaching management of the estates and the money. If you fancy a will like that, turning his own nephew adrift on the world in favour of methodists and attorneys, and a girl he never saw till the other day, is to pass unchallenged, you're very much mistaken; it's just the thing that always happens when an old man like that dies--there's a will of course--every one understands it. I'll have you all where you won't like." Mrs. Shackleton, with her mouth pursed, her nose high in the air, and her brows knit over a vivid pair of eyes, was the only one of the group who seemed ready to explode in reply; Mr. Blount looked simply shocked and confounded; the vicar maintained his bewildered and appealing stare; Mr. Spaight's eyebrows were elevated above his spectacles, and his mouth opened, as he leaned forward his long nose; Mr. Jarlcot's brow looked thunderous, and his chops a little flushed; all were staring for some seconds in silence on Mr. Marston, whose concluding sentences had risen almost to a shriek, with a laugh running through it. "I think, Mr. Marston," said Jarlcot, after a couple of efforts, "you would do well to--to consider, a little, the bearing of your language; I don't think you can quite see its force." "I wish you could--I mean it; and I'm d--d but you shall feel it too! You shall hear of me sooner than you all think. I'm not a fellow to be pigeoned so simply." With these words, he walked into the hall, and a few moments after they heard the door shut with a violent clang. A solemn silence reigned in the room for a little time; these peaceable people seemed stunned by the explosion. "Evasit, erupit," murmured the vicar, sadly, raising his hands, and shaking his head. "How very painful!" "I don't wonder--I make great allowances," said Mr. Blount, "I have been very unhappy myself, ever since it was ascertained that he had not executed the new will. I am afraid the young man will never consent to accept a part of my annuity--he is so spirited." "Don't be uneasy on that point," said Mr. Jarlcot; "if you lodge it, he'll draw it; not--but I think--you might do--better--with your money." There was something in the tone, undefinable, that prompted a dark curiosity. Mr. Blount turned on him a quick look of inquiry. Mr. Jarlcot lowered his eyes, and then turned them to the window, with the remark that the summer was making a long stay this year. Mr. Blount looked down and slowly rubbed his forehead, thinking, and sighing deeply, as he said, "It's a wonderful world, this--may the Lord have mercy on us all!" CHAPTER LXXI.