d misunderstood him. In rejecting the old man's
offers, he had expressed his contempt for riches--for riches, that
is, as any counterbalance to independence. Mr. Bertram had taken what
he said for more than it was worth; and had supposed that his nephew,
afflicted with some singular lunacy, disliked money for its own sake.
George had never cared to disabuse his uncle's mind. Let him act as
he will, he had said to himself, it is not for me to dictate to him,
either on the one side or the other. And so the error had gone on.

To-morrow morning the will would be read, and George would have to
listen to the reading of it. He knew well enough that the world
looked on him as his uncle's probable heir, and that he should have
to bear Mr. Pritchett's hardly expressed pity, Sir Henry's malignant
pleasure, and Sir Lionel's loud disgust. All this was nearly as bad
to him as the remembrance of what he had lost; but by degrees he
screwed his courage up to the necessary point of endurance.

"What is Pritchett to me, with his kind, but burdensome solicitude?
what Sir Henry's mad anger? How can they affect my soul? or what even
is my father? Let him rave. I care not to have compassion on myself;
why should his grief assail me--grief which is so vile, so base, so
unworthy of compassion?"

And thus schooling himself for the morrow, he betook himself to bed.

CHAPTER XV.

THE WILL.

The only attendants at old Mr. Bertram's funeral were his nephew,
Mr. Pritchett, and the Hadley doctor. The other gentlemen were to be
present only at the more interesting ceremony of reading the will.
Sir Lionel had written to say that he was rather unwell; that he
certainly would come up from Littlebath so as to be present at the
latter performance; but that the very precarious state of his health,
and the very inconvenient hours of the trains, unhappily prevented
him from paying the other last sad duty to his brother's remains. Sir
Henry Harcourt had plainly demanded at what hour the will would be
read; and Mr. Stickatit, junior--Mr. George Stickatit--of the firm
of Dry and Stickatit, had promised to be at Hadley punctually at two
P.M. And he kept his word.

Mr. Pritchett came down by an early train, and, as was fit on such an
occasion, was more melancholy than usual. He was very melancholy and
very sad, for he felt that that half-million of money was in a great
jeopardy; and, perhaps, even the death of his old friend of forty
years' standi