With a sigh Augusta uncovered her shoulders, and her friend ran round the
table to look at them. There, on her neck, was the will. The cuttle ink
had proved an excellent medium, and the tattooing was as fresh as the day
on which it had been done, and would, no doubt, remain so till the last
hour of her life.
"Well," said Lady Holmhurst, "I hope the young man will be duly grateful.
I should have to be very much in love," and she looked meaningly at
Augusta, "before I would spoil myself in that fashion for any man."
Augusta blushed at the insinuation, and said nothing. At ten o'clock,
just as they were half through breakfast, there came a ring at the bell.
"Here he is," said Lady Holmhurst, clapping her hands. "Well, if this
isn't the very funniest thing that I ever heard of! I told Jones to show
him in here."
Hardly were the words out of her mouth when the butler, who looked as
solemn as a mute in his deep mourning, opened the door and announced "Mr.
Eustace Meeson," in those deep and commanding tones which flunkeys, and
flunkeys alone, have at their command. There was a moment's pause.
Augusta half rose from her chair, and then sat down again; and, noticing
her embarrassment, Lady Holmhurst smiled maliciously.
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