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So the grudge, being well watered, grew and flourished, and at last, as I said, the old man made a will one night, in the presence of the gardener and his nephew, who witnessed it, leaving all he possessed—save the title and some outside property, which he did not possess—to his younger son. And, having made this will, he went to his bed, and in the cold night, all alone, he died there, and was found in the morning stiff and stark, with the gay spring sunshine pouring in upon him, while the birds sang without as though to mock death's power, and the flowers broke slowly into life. Here he breaks down ignominiously, considering the amount of sternness he had summoned to his aid when commencing, and, walking to the mantelpiece, lays his arm on it, and his head upon his arms. "Not very soon. But some time, of course, I must go.".
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As he finishes he moves towards the window, as though bent upon putting his words into execution at once, but Mona hastily stepping before him, gets between it and him, and, raising her hand, forbids his approach. "Wait till to-morrow evening, and see if you will feel as you do now. Your cheerful complaisance in this matter is much to be admired. And Nicholas should be grateful But I think you will find one dose of Lady Lilias and her ancient Briton sufficient for your lifetime." "At home," returns he. He is gazing out of the window, with his hands clasped behind his back, and does not pay so much attention to her words as is his wont. The duchess laughs..
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