“She will have half or the whole, just as Reginald may be situated then.  I don’t know why I shouldn’t tell her father what it is I mean to do.”  The attorney knew to a shilling the amount of Lady Ushant’s income and thought that this was the best news he had heard for many a day.

While Lady Ushant was in the sick man’s room, Mrs. Morton was closeted with the attorney.  She had thought much of this step before she had dared to take it and even now doubted whether it would avail her anything.  As she entered the book-room in which Mr. Masters was seated she almost repented.  But the man was there and she was compelled to go on with her scheme.  “Mr. Masters,” she said, “it is I think a long time since you have been employed by this family.”

“A very long time, Madam.”

“And I have now sent for you under circumstances of great difficulty,” she answered; but as he said nothing she was forced to go on.  “My grandson made his will the other day up in London, when he thought that he was going out to Patagonia.”  Mr. Masters bowed.  “It was done when he was in sound health, and he is now not satisfied with it” Then there was another bow, but not a word was spoken.  “Of course you know that he is very ill.”

“We have all been very much grieved to hear it”

“I am sure you would be, for the sake of old days.  When Dr. Fanning was last here he thought that my grandson was something better.  He held out stronger hopes than before.  But still he is very ill.  His mind has never wavered for a moment, Mr. Masters.”  Again Mr. Masters bowed.  “And now he thinks that some changes should be made;—­indeed that there should be a new will.”

“Does he wish me to see him, Mrs. Morton?”

“Not to-day, I think.  He is not quite prepared to-day.  But I wanted to ask whether you could come at a moment’s notice,—­quite at a moment’s notice.  I thought it better, so that you should know why we sent for you if we did send,—­so that you might be prepared.  It could be done here, I suppose?”

“It would be possible, Mrs. Morton.”

“And you could do it?”

Then there was a long pause.  “Altering a will is a very serious thing, Mrs. Morton.  And when it is done on what perhaps may be a death-bed, it is a very serious thing indeed.  Mr. Morton, I believe, employs a London solicitor.  I know the firm and more respectable gentlemen do not exist.  A telegram would bring down one of the firm from London by the next train.”

A frown, a very heavy frown, came across the old woman’s brow.  She would have repressed it had it been possible;—­but she could not command herself, and the frown was there.  “If that had been practicable, Mr. Masters,” she said, “we should not have sent for you.”

“I was only suggesting, madame, what might be the best course.”

“Exactly.  And of course I am much obliged.  But if we are driven to call upon you for your assistance, we shall find it?”