The only reason why we do not
feel sure that the rumour was false is this,--Simon Gawtrey had been
so hard on the early follies of his son! Certainly, at all events, the
woman had exercised great influence over the miser before the arrival
of Fanny, and she had done much to steel his selfishness against the
ill-fated William. And, as certainly, she had fully calculated on
succeeding to the savings, whatever they might be, of the miser,
whenever Providence should be pleased to terminate his days. She knew
that Simon had, many years back, made his will in her favour; she knew
that he had not altered that will: she believed, therefore, that in
spite of all his love for Fanny, he loved his gold so much more, that he
could not accustom himself to the thought of bequeathing it to hands too
helpless to guard the treasure. This had in some measure reconciled
the housekeeper to the intruder; whom, nevertheless, she hated as a dog
hates another dog, not only for taking his bone, but for looking at it.

But suddenly Simon fell ill. His age made it probable he would die. He
took to his bed--his breathing grew fainter and fainter--he seemed dead.
Fanny, all unconscious, sat by his bedside as usual, holding her breath
not to waken him. Mrs. Boxer flew to the bureau--she unlocked it--she
could not find the will; but she found three bags of bright gold
guineas: the sight charmed her. She tumbled them forth on the distained
green cloth of the bureau--she began to count them; and at that moment,
the old man, as if there were a secret magnetism between himself and
the guineas, woke from his trance. His blindness saved him the pain
that might have been fatal, of seeing the unhallowed profanation; but he
heard the chink of the metal. The very sound restored his strength.
But the infirm are always cunning--he breathed not a suspicion. "Mrs.
Boxer," said he, faintly, "I think I could take some broth." Mrs. Boxer
rose in great dismay, gently re-closed the bureau, and ran down-stairs
for the broth. Simon took the occasion to question Fanny; and no sooner
had he learnt the operation of the heir-expectant, than he bade the girl
first lock the bureau and bring him the key, and next run to a lawyer
(whose address he gave her), and fetch him instantly.

With a malignant smile the old man took the broth from his
handmaid,--"Poor Boxer, you are a disinterested creature," said he,
feebly; "I think you will grieve when I go."

Mrs. Boxer sobbed, and b