How Grimshaw, had he been present and noticed this incident, would have congratulated himself upon this triumphant manifestation of his admirable system of billing! The secret of his management and his success.
CHAPTER XX. A REVELATION CONTINUED.
"Come in, my dear Wil, I've been longing to see you for these past two days. Why have you kept away? Lord, how your hand burns! Come in and sit down, and make yourself comfortable, and tell me presently what you have been doing with yourself."
And Martin, with kind force, drew Wilford into the Temple chambers, and made him sit down in the easiest chair.
"I will tell you, Martin, soon," said Wilford; "indeed I have much to tell you."
He was too much occupied to perceive that Martin was excited, even agitated—that he only restrained himself by a violent effort from permitting this to be unmistakeably evident.
"I have been suffering very much since we last met, Martin. I have been torturing myself with all sort3 of doubts and alarms. I have been thinking until my mind has almost abandoned me. I have overtasked my brain until it seemed to be burning in my head like a live coal. But I have arrived at a determination at last: for indeed I can bear the present state of things no longer. I shall go mad if I do not speak to some one, and reveal the cause of my suffering. I come down here to-day to complete what I left unfinished some days ago. Cost what it will, I must speak now. Give me your patience first. God knows whether, when you have heard me, I shall have a right to ask aught further of you! May I go on?"
Martin signified assent.
He bent his eyes on the ground; he concealed the lower half of his face, leaning his chin on his hand. Wilford resumed.
"You remember the story I began to tell the other day?
"I loved the girl Regine, or believed that I did. On the part of the Pichots, no arts were wanting to encourage that belief. I shudder as I think of the shameful avidity with which I accepted the coarse adulation of these creatures. My only excuse can be that at the time I was a mere boy, badly brought up, nurtured in the idea of a false superiority over others; the heir to an old! name and a great estate, easily betrayed by the cunning of this man and woman into the opinion that I had a claim to the love of Regine that could not be gainsaid. My admiration excited, they hastened to inflame my vanity, and to play upon these until my boyish sentiments were wrought to the idea that I loved the girl Regine passionately, and that I had but to declare myself to discover that my love was returned. In a moment of insane recklessness I avowed to Regine my feeling for her. She treated my suit with scorn the most complete. But my vanity and my passion were not quenched I by this unlooked for coldness; they seemed but to burn the more intensely. I was not cured of my folly. I grew mad with rage. I swore that I would make her mine. I revealed to the Pichots what had passed, imploring their aid. It was rendered in hot haste. The influence they possessed over Regine, when once they chose to exert it, was extraordinary. By what means they ruled her so absolutely I shall never know. Previously they had been content with attempts to persuade her; to dazzle her with the idea of my wealth and importance, by appealing to her pride, and by placing my admiration for her in the strongest light possible. Now this was changed. They had an angry, virulent conference with her. Shortly afterwards, Madame Pichot bade me seek Regine again, and renew my suit I did so. I found her sullen, silent, indifferent. I went over again the story of my love for her. When she quitted me I was her accepted suitor. Let me say at once that no dishonourable condition was contained in my suit. My passion was fierce, violent; but it had all the honesty, the unselfishness, that a boy's passion ever has. To the woman that I believed I loved, I offered marriage. It is only maturer life that is bold enough and bad enough to proffer, in one breath, both lore and insult.
"One word as to the object of the Pichots. It was plainly this—my uncle's money; to be secured through their daughter, and the power they would through her obtain, and continue to hold, over me. They had made more than one attempt already to induce my uncle to execute a will by which they should benefit; but this he had continually deferred doing. Failing a will, his fortune would go to my father, as the nearest relative, and of course, through him, would descend in great part to me, as his eldest son. In this case the Pichots perceived their advantage; and especially if I married their putative daughter. If my uncle made a will, why, of course, their chances of profit were very good—they might benefit under it directly as legatees; or their daughter might; or if I was made sole heir—as was possible—then, again, they had claims as the parents of my wife, supposing the projected marriage to be carried into effect. It may be as well to state here what was the ultimate disposition of my uncle's property. His will was made, it appeared afterwards, when he was at Grilling Abbots, shortly before his death. He had been an invalid for some time, and the Pichots had been in constant attendance upon him. He was not himself; he had been, it seemed to every one, imbecile for some months preceding his death, incapable of making a valid will. Still, after his funeral, the will was produced—a common printed form, filled up by Madame Pichot, but signed, apparently, by my uncle, and witnessed by two of the servants at the Grange. By this will he bequeathed the whole of his property, of whatever description, to the separate use of Madame Pichot. It was said that a sealed letter to her address was folded up with the will, and that this letter contained a request that she would consider the bequest as upon trust for the benefit of a natural child of the testator. I know not on what foundation this rumour rested. My father, I know, was urged to contest the will, on the ground of the insanity of his brother, and his incapacity to make a valid disposition of his property. But he steadily declined. Whether he ever saw the letter to Madame Pichot, whether he