“Madame,” said the attorney very slowly, “it is of course part of my business to make wills, and when called upon to do so, I perform my business to the best of my ability.  But in altering a will during illness great care is necessary.  A codicil might be added—­”

“A new will would be necessary.”

A new will, thought the attorney, could only be necessary for altering the disposition of the whole estate.  He knew enough of the family circumstances to be aware that the property should go to Reginald Morton whether with or without a will,—­and also enough to be aware that this old lady was Reginald’s bitter enemy.  He did not think that he could bring himself to take instructions from a dying man,—­from the Squire of Bragton on his death-bed,—­for an instrument which should alienate the property from the proper heir.  He too had his strong feelings, perhaps his prejudices, about Bragton.  “I would wish that the task were in other hands, Mrs. Morton.”

“Why so?”

“It is hard to measure the capacity of an invalid.”

“His mind is as clear as yours”

“It might be so,—­and yet I might not be able to satisfy myself that it was so.  I should have to ask long and tedious questions, which would be offensive.  And I should find myself giving advice,—­ which would not be called for.  For instance, were your grandson to wish to leave this estate away from the heir—­”

“I am not discussing his wishes, Mr. Masters.”

“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Morton, for making the suggestion;—­but as I said before, I should prefer that he should employ some one else.”

“You refuse then?”

“If Mr. Morton were to send for me, I should go to him instantly.  But I fear I might be slow in taking his instructions;—­and it is possible that I might refuse to act on them.”  Then she got up from her chair and bowing to him with stately displeasure left the room.

All this she had done without any authority from her grandson, simply encouraged in her object by his saying in his weakness, that he would think of her proposition.  So intent was she on her business that she was resolved to have everything ready if only he could once be brought to say that Peter Morton should be his heir.  Having abandoned all hopes for her noble cousin she could tell her conscience that she was instigated simply by an idea of justice.  Peter Morton was at any rate the legitimate son of a well-born father and a wellborn mother.  What had she or any one belonging to her to gain by it?  But forty years since a brat had been born at Bragton in opposition to her wishes,—­by whose means she had been expelled from the place; and now it seemed to her to be simple justice that he should on this account be robbed of that which would otherwise be naturally his own.  As Mr. Masters would not serve her turn she must write to the London lawyers.  The thing would be more difficult; but, nevertheless, if the sick man could once be got to say that Peter should be his heir she thought that she could keep him to his word.  Lady Ushant and Mr. Masters went back to Dillsborough in Runciman’s fly, and it need hardly be said that the attorney said nothing of the business which had taken him to Bragton.