w it shall be," said the farmer. "On the day after I shall
be in Carmarthen to market. If eleven o'clock to-morrow morning won't
be too early, I shall be there, sir."

One, or three, or five o'clock would have been better, or the day
following better still, so that the evil hour might have been
postponed. But Cousin Henry assented to the proposition and took his
departure. Now he had committed himself to some revelation, and the
revelation must be made. He felt acutely the folly of his own conduct
during the last quarter of an hour. If it might have been possible to
make the old man believe that the document had only been that morning
found, such belief could only have been achieved by an impulsive
telling of the story. He was aware that at every step he took he
created fresh difficulties by his own folly and want of foresight.
How could he now act the sudden emotion of a man startled by
surprise? Nevertheless, he must go on with his scheme. There was
now nothing before him; but still he might be able to achieve
that purpose which he had in view of escaping from Llanfeare and
Carmarthenshire.

He sat up late that night thinking of it. For many days past he had
not touched the volume, or allowed his eye to rest upon the document.
He had declared to himself that it might remain there or be taken
away, as it might chance to others. It should no longer be anything
to him. For aught that he knew, it might already have been removed.
Such had been his resolution during the last fortnight, and in
accordance with that he had acted. But now his purpose was again
changed. Now he intended to reveal the will with his own hands, and
it might be well that he should see that it was there.

He took down the book, and there it was. He opened it out, and
carefully read through every word of its complicated details. For it
had been arranged and drawn out in a lawyer's office, with all the
legal want of punctuation and unintelligible phraseology. It had
been copied verbatim by the old Squire, and was no doubt a properly
binding and effective will. Never before had he dwelt over it so
tediously. He had feared lest a finger-mark, a blot, or a spark might
betray his acquaintance with the deed. But now he was about to give
it up and let all the world know that it had been in his hands. He
felt, therefore, that he was entitled to read it, and that there was
no longer ground to fear any accident. Though the women in the house
should see him r