human
Atherton tells me that when he reached his uncle's house, he found his cousin, Lister Wilmot, had just arrived; and they both went to Thorneley's room together, Wilmot said to him on the way, 'I must get some money to-night out of the governor, if possible, for I'm dreadfully hard-up. I've had to dodge three duns to-day; and there'll be a writ out against me to-morrow as sure as I'm alive, if he doesn't fork out handsomely.' Atherton asked him what he called handsomely, with a view, I imagine, to helping him himself if he could; but Wilmot mentioned a sum so large that there could be no further thought of his doing so. They found the old man unusually preoccupied and taciturn. Nevertheless, in spite of unfavorable circumstances, Wilmot broached the subject of his difficulties to him, and abruptly asked for 500_l_. Thorneley was furious; and it seems, curiously enough, that he turned his fury upon Atherton; accused him of leading Wilmot astray, of teaching him to be extravagant; of making a tool of him for purposes of his own; in short, making the most unheard-of accusations against poor Atherton, and throwing the entire blame on him. Atherton says he felt convinced that some one must have been carrying false stories to his uncle, or in some way poisoning his mind against himself; but knowing how broken in health he was, he tried at first to soothe him, and quietly contradict his assertions, and Wilmot _indorsed all he said_, distinctly stating that his cousin was entirely free from all blame in the matter, and that it was his own extravagance which had brought him into difficulties; and much more to the same effect. And now comes the terrible part. Thorneley only waxed wrother and more wroth; swore at Atherton, and told him he might pay his cousin's debts for him; and if he couldn't out of his own money, he might get his future wife's guardian to advance him some of hers; and that if Wilmot had looked half-sharp he might have married the girl himself. As it was, he dared say she would marry Kavanagh in the end. You may suppose this vexed Atherton not a little; his blood was up, and he spoke out hot and angrily to his uncle, telling him amongst other things that he would _bitterly repent on the morrow what he had said last night_. He tells me he distinctly remembers the words he used. In the heat of the dispute--he thinks it must have been just at the moment he said this--the housekeeper came in with the tray. It seems that Thorneley always took bitter-ale the last thing at night, with hard biscuits. Almost directly after he had spoken Atherton repented having got angry with the old man, remembering what his temperament was; and as a sort of propitiatory action, went and fetched him his glass of ale from the table. Gilbert Thorneley took it from Atherton's hand, and--drank it. _There was poison in that glass of ale!_