your best friend will be dead, and you will
have killed her."

He looked at her full: he said, with a shade of compunction, "I am not
a gentleman, but you are a lady. I'll trust you. I'll sign anything you
like."

"That confidence becomes you," said Lady Bassett; "and now I have no
objection to show you I deserve it. Here is a letter to Mr. Rolfe, by
which you may learn I have already placed three thousand pounds to his
account, to be laid out by him for your benefit in Australia, where he
has many confidential friends; and this is a check for five hundred
pounds I drew in your favor yesterday. Do me the favor to take it."

He did her that favor with sparkling eyes.

"Now here is the paper I wish you to sign; but your signature will be
of little value to me without Mary Meyrick's."

"Oh, she will sign it directly: I have only to tell her."

"Are you sure? Men can be brought to take a dispassionate view of their
own interest, but women are not so wise. Take it, and try her. If she
refuses, bring her to me _directly._ Do you understand? Otherwise, in
one fatal hour, her tongue will ruin _you,_ and destroy me."

Impressed with these words, Reginald hurried to Mrs. Meyrick, and told
her, in an off-hand way, she must sign that paper directly.

She looked at it and turned very white, but went on her guard directly.

"Sign such a wicked lie as that!" said she. "That I never will. You
_are_ his son, and Huntercombe shall be yours. She is an unnatural
mother."

"Gammon!" said Reginald. "You might as well say a fox is the son of a
gander. Come now; I am not going to let you cut my throat with your
tongue. Sign at once, or else come to her this moment and tell her so."

"That I will," said Mary Meyrick, "and give her my mind."

This doughty resolution was a little shaken when she cast eyes upon
Lady Bassett, and saw how wan and worn she looked.

She moderated her violence, and said, sullenly, "Sorry to gainsay
_you,_ my lady, and you so ill, but this is a paper I never can sign.
It would rob him of Huntercombe. I'd sooner cut my hand off at the
wrist."

"Nonsense, Mary!" said Lady Bassett, contemptuously.

She then proceeded to reason with her, but it was no use. Mary would
not listen to reason, and defied her at last in a loud voice.

"Very well," said Lady Bassett. "Then since you will not do it my way,
it shall be done another way. I shall put my confession in Sir
Charles's hands, and insist on his dismis