The doctor,
beguiled by professional vanity, feeling what a feather she was in his
cap, quite confident that she would reach her hundredth birthday, and
with an ecstatic hope that even, by grace of his admirable treatment and
her own beautiful constitution, she might (almost) solve the problem and
live forever, gave up troubling about the will which at a former period
he had taken so much interest in. "What is the use?" he said; "she will
see us all out." And the vicar, though he did not give in to this, was
overawed by the old lady, who knew everything that could be taught her,
and to whom it seemed an impertinence to utter commonplaces about duty,
or even to suggest subjects of thought. Mr. Furnival was the only man who
did not cease his representations, and whose anxiety about the young
Mary, who was so blooming and sweet in the shadow of the old, did not
decrease. But the recollection of the bit of paper in the secret drawer
of the cabinet, fortified his old client against all his attacks. She had
intended it only as a jest, with which some day or other to confound him,
and show how much wiser she was than he supposed. It became quite a
pleasant subject of thought to her, at which she laughed to herself. Some
day, when she had a suitable moment, she would order him to come with all
his formalities, and then produce her bit of paper, and turn the laugh
against him.
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