come more animated and more bitter
than herself, and had almost startled her by the boldness of his
denunciations. She in her passion had allowed herself more than once
to express a wish that her stepson--were dead. She had hardly in
truth meant as much as she implied,--or meaning it had hardly thought
of what she meant. But the chaplain taking the words from her lips,
had repeated them till she was almost terrified by their iniquity and
horror. He had no darlings to justify him! No great injury had been
done to him by an unkind fortune! Great as were the sin of Lord
Hampstead and his sister, they could bring no disgrace upon him!
And yet there was a settled purpose of hatred in his words which
frightened her, though she could not bring herself to oppose them.
She in her rage had declared that it would be well that Lord
Hampstead should break his neck out hunting or go down in his yacht
at sea; and she had been gratified to find that her friend had
sanctioned her ill-wishes. But when Mr. Greenwood spoke as though
something might possibly be done to further those wishes, then she
almost repented herself.

She had been induced to say that if any power should come to her
of bestowing the living of Appleslocombe she would bestow it on Mr.
Greenwood. Were Lord Hampstead to die before the Marquis, and were
the Marquis to die before the old rector, such power would belong
to her during the minority of her eldest son. There had, therefore,
been some meaning in the promise; and the clergyman had referred to
it more than once or twice. "It is most improbable, you know, Mr.
Greenwood," she had said very seriously. He had replied as seriously
that such improbabilities were of frequent occurrence. "If it should
happen I will do so," she had answered. But after that she had never
of her own accord referred to the probability of Lord Hampstead's
death.

From day to day there grew upon her a feeling that she had subjected
herself to domination, almost to tyranny from Mr. Greenwood. The
man whom she had known intimately during her entire married life
now appeared to assume different proportions and almost a different
character. He would still stand before her with his flabby hands
hanging listlessly by his side, and with eyes apparently full of
hesitation, and would seem to tremble as though he feared the effect
of his own words; but still the words that fell from him were felt to
be bonds from which she could not escape. When he loo