CHAPTER VII
THE READING OF THE WILL
'We will make him sell his Reversionary interest'--the voice wascuriously harsh and grating--'and you will then be able to take thewhole.'
You know how, sometimes, one hears things in a mysterious way which onecould not hear under ordinary circumstances. I was standing in the outercounting-house in the room assigned to the accountants. In the innercounting-house, I knew, my cousin was sitting. Without being told anything more, I guessed that the voice belonged to the tall lean man whowas present at the funeral, and that he was addressing Matthew, andthat he was talking about me. And, without any reason, I assumed amental attitude of caution. They were going to make me sell something,were they?
When I was called into the room I found that I was so far right,inasmuch as the only two persons in the room were my cousin and the leanman who by his black dress I perceived to be an attorney.
Now, I daresay that there are attorneys in the City of London whoselives are as holy as that of any Bishop or Divine. At the same time itis a matter of common notoriety that the City contains a swarm ofvermin--if I may speak plainly--who are versed in every kind ofchicanery: who know how to catch hold of every possible objection: andwho spend the whole of their creeping lives in wresting, twisting, andturning the letter of the law to their own advantage, under the pretenseof advantage to their clients. These are the attorneys who suggest andencourage disputes and lawsuits between persons who would otherwiseremain friends: there are those who keep cases running on for years,eating up the estates: when they fasten upon a man, it is the spiderfastening on a big fat fly: they never leave him until they land him ina debtor's prison, naked and destitute. I have observed that a course oflife, such as that indicated above, presently stamps the face with alook which cannot be mistaken: the eyes draw together: the mouth growsstraight and hard: the lips become thin: the nose insensibly, even if itbe originally a snub, becomes like the beak of a crow--the creaturewhich devours the offal in the street: the cheeks are no longer fleshand skin, but wrinkled parchment: the aspect of the man becomes, in aword, such as that of the man who sat at the table, a bundle of papersbefore him.
I knew, I say, that Mr. Probus--which was his name--was an attorney atthe outset. His black coat: his wig: his general aspect: left no doubtupon my mind. And from the outset I disliked and distrusted the man.
The last time I had entered this room was to make my choice between myfather and my music. The memory of the dignified figure in the greatchair behind the table: his voice of austerity: his expectation ofimmediate obedience made my eyes dim for a moment. Not for long, becauseone would not show any tenderness before Matthew.
With some merchants the counting-house is furnished with no more thanwhat is wanted: in this wharf it was a substantial house of brick inwhich certain persons slept every night for the better security of thestrong-room in the cellars below. The principal room, that which hadbeen my father's, had two windows looking out upon the river: the roomwas carpeted: family portraits hung upon the walls: the furniture wassolid mahogany: no one who worked in such a room could be anything but asubstantial merchant.
My cousin looked up and sulkily pointed to a chair.
At this time Matthew Halliday presented the appearance of a responsibleCity Merchant. His dress was sober yet of the best: nobody had whiterruffles at his wrist or at his shirt-front: nobody wore a neck-cloth ofmore costly lace: his gold buttons, gold buckles, and gold laced hatproclaimed him an independent person: he carried a large gold watch anda gold snuff-box: he wore a large signet-ring on his right thumb, hisface was grave beyond his years: this morning it presented an appearancewhich in lesser men is called sulky. I knew the look well, from oldexperience. It meant that something had gone wrong. All my life long Ihad experienced at the hands of this cousin an animosity which I canonly explain by supposing a resentment against one who stood betweenhimself and a rich man's estate. As a boy--I was four or five yearsyounger than himself--he would take from me, and destroy, things Icherished: he invented lies and brought false accusations against me; heteased, pinched, bullied me when no one was looking. When I grew bigenough I fought him. At first I got beaten: but I went on growing andpresently I beat him. Then, if he attempted any more false accusationshe knew that he would have to fight me again; a consideration which madehim virtuous.
'Cousin,' he said coldly, 'this gentleman is Mr. Probus, the newattorney of the House. Mr. Littleton, his late attorney, is dead. Mr.Probus will henceforth conduct our affairs.'
'Unworthily,' said Mr. Probus.
'That is my concern,' Matthew replied with great dignity. 'I hope I knowhow to choose and to appoint my agents.'
'Sir'--Mr. Probus turned to me--'it has ever been the business of mylife to study the good of my fellow man. My motto is one taken from anancient source--you will allow one of the learned profession to havesome tincture of Latin. The words are--ahem!--_Integer vitae scelerisqueProbus_. That is to say: Probus--Probus, Attorney-at-Law; _vitae_, lived;_integer_, respected; _scelerisque_, and trusted. Such, Sir, should youraffairs ever require the nice conduct of one who is both guide andfriend to his clients, you will ever find me. Now, Mr. Matthew, Sir, myhonoured patron, I await your commands.'
'We are waiting, cousin,' said Matthew, 'for my father. As soon as hearrives Mr. Probus will read the Will. The contents are known to me--ingeneral terms--such was the confidence reposed in me by my honoureduncle--in general terms. I believe you will find that any expectationsyou may have formed--'
'Pardon me, Sir,' interrupted the attorney. 'Not before the reading ofthe Will--'
'Will be frustrated. That is all I intended to say. Of course there maybe a trifle. Indeed I hope there may prove to be some trifling legacy.
'Perhaps a shilling. Ha, ha!' The attorney looked more forbidding whenhe became mirthful than when he was serious.
Then some of my cousins arrived and sat down. We waited a few minutes insilence, until the arrival of my uncle the Alderman with his wife anddaughters.
The ladies stared at me without any kind of salutation. The Aldermanshook his head.
'Nephew,' he said, 'I am sorry to see you here. I fear you will go awaywith a sorrowful heart--'
'I am sorrowful already, because my father was not reconciled to me. Ishall not be any the more sorrowful to find that I have nothing. It iswhat I expect. Now, sir, you may read my father's will as soon as youplease.'
In spite of my brave words I confess that, for Alice's sake, I did hopethat something would be left me.
Then all took chairs and sat down with a cough of expectation. There wasno more wailing from the ladies.
Mr. Probus took up from the table a parchment tied with red tape andsealed. He solemnly opened it.
'This,' he said, 'is the last will and testament of Peter Halliday,Knight, and Alderman, late Lord Mayor, Citizen and Lorimer.'
My uncle interposed. 'One moment, sir.' Then he turned to me.'Repentance, nephew, though too late to change a parent's testamentarydispositions, may be quickened by the consequences of a parent'sresentment. It may therefore be the means of leading to theforgiveness--ahem--and the remission--ahem--of more painfulconsequences--ahem--at the hands of Providence.'
I inclined my head. 'Now, sir, once more.'
'This will was made four years ago when the late Mr. Littleton was thedeceased gentleman's attorney. It was opened three months ago in orderto add a trifling codicil, which was entrusted to my care. I will nowread the will.'
There is no such cumbrous and verbose document in the world as the willof a wealthy man. It was read by Mr. Probus in a harsh voice withoutstops in a sing-song, monotonous delivery, which composed the senses andmade one feel as if all the words in the Dictionary were being readaloud.
At last he finished.
'Perhaps,' I said, 'someone will tell me in plain English what itmeans?'
'Plain English, Sir? Let me tell you,' Mr. Probus replied, 'that thereis no plainer English in the world than that
employed by lawyers.'
I turned to my uncle. 'Will you, Sir, have the goodness to explain tome?'
'I cannot recite the whole. As for the main points--Mr. Probus willcorrect me if I am wrong--my lamented brother leaves bequests to foundan almshouse for eight poor men and eight poor widows, to bear his name;he also founds at his Parish Church an annual Lecture, to bear his name:he establishes a New Year's dole, to bear his name, of coals and bread,for twenty widows of the Parish. He has founded a school, for twelvepoor boys, to bear his name. He has ordered his executors to effect therelease of thirty poor prisoners for debt, in his name. Is there more,Mr. Probus?'
'He also founds a scholarship for a poor and deserving lad, to assisthim at Cambridge. The same scholarship to bear his name and to be in thegift of his Company.'
'What does he say about me?'
'I am coming to that,' Mr. Probus replied. 'He devises many bequests tohis nephews and nieces, his cousins and his personal friends, withmourning rings to all: there are, I believe, two hundred thus honoured:two hundred--I think, Mr. Paul, that it is a long time since the Citylost one so rich and so richly provided with friends.'
'But what does he say about me?' I insisted.
'Patience. He then devises the whole of his remaining estate: all hishouses, investments, shares, stocks: all his furniture and plate: to hisnephew Matthew.'
'I expected it. And nothing said about me at all.'
'It is estimated that the remainder, after deducting the monies alreadydisposed of, will not amount to more than L100,000, because there is areservation----'
'Oh!'
'It is provided that the sum of L100,000 be set aside: that it be placedin the hands of trustees whom he names--the Master of his Company andthe Clerk of the Company. This money is to accumulate at compoundinterest until one of two events shall happen--either the death of hisson, in which case Mr. Matthew will have it all: or the death of Mr.Matthew, in which case the son is to have it all. In other words, thisvast sum of money with accumulations will go to the survivor of thetwo.'
I received this intelligence in silence. At first I could not understandwhat it meant.
'I think, Sir,' Mr. Probus addressed the Alderman, 'we have now setforth the terms of this most important document in plain language. Weought perhaps to warn Mr. William against building any hopes upon thevery slender chance of succeeding to this money. We have here'--heindicated Matthew--'health, strength, an abstemious life: on the otherhand we have'--he indicated me--'what we see.'
I laughed. At all events I was a more healthy subject, to look at, thanmy cousin, who this morning looked yellow instead of pale.
'The span of life,' the attorney went on, 'accorded to my justlyesteemed client, will probably be that usually assigned to those whohonour their parents--say eighty, or even ninety. You, sir, willprobably be cut off at forty. I believe that it is the common lot inyour class. Above all things, do not build upon the chances of thisreversion.'
Suddenly the words I had heard came back to me. What were they? 'Wewill make him sell his reversion.' 'Sell his reversion.' Then thereversion must not be sold.
Mr. Probus went on too long. You may destroy the effect of your words bytoo much repetition.
'A shadowy chance,' he said, 'a shadowy chance.'
'I don't know. Why should not my cousin die before me? Besides, it meansthat my father in cutting me off would leave a door for restitution.'
'Only an imaginary door, sir--not a real door.'
'A very real door. I shall live as long as I can. My cousin will do ashe pleases. Mr. Probus, the "shadowy chance," as you call it, is achance that is worth a large sum of money if I would sell my reversion.'Mr. Probus started and looked suspicious. 'But I shall not sell it. Ishall wait. Matthew might die to-morrow--to-day, even--'
'Fie, Sir--oh, fie!--to desire the death of your cousin! This indeedbetokens a bad heart--a bad heart. How dreadful is the passion of envy!How soul-destroying is the thirst for gold!'
I rose. I knew the worst.
'Do not,' Mr. Probus went on, 'give, I entreat you, one thought to thething. Before your cousin's life lies stretched what I may call acharming landskip with daisies in the grass, and--and--the prettywarblers of the grove. It is a life, I see very plainly, full ofgoodness, which is Heavenly Wealth, stored up for future use; and ofsuccess on Change, which is worldly wealth. Happy is the City which ownsthe possessor of both!'
The moralist ceased and began to tie up his papers. When his stridentvoice dropped, the air became musical again, so to speak. However, theharsh voice suited the sham piety.
'Cousin Matthew,' I rose, since there was nothing to keep me longer.'Could I remember, in your seven-and-twenty years of life, one singlegenerous act or one single worthy sentiment, then I could believe thisfustian about the length of days and the Heavenly Wealth. Live as longas you can. I desire never to see you again, and never to hear from youagain. Go your own way, and leave me to go mine.'
The whole company rose: they parted right and left to let me pass: asthe saying is, they gave me the cold shoulder with a wonderfulunanimity. There was a common consent among them that the man who hadbecome a fiddler had disgraced the family. As for Matthew, he made noreply even with looks. He did not, however, present the appearance ofjoy at this great accession to wealth. Something was on his mind thattroubled him.
My uncle the Alderman spoke for the family.
'Nephew,' he said, 'believe me, it is with great sorrow that we see theethus cast out: yet we cannot but believe the acts of my brother to berighteous. I rejoice not that my son has taken thine inheritance. Ilament that thou hast justly been deprived. The will cuts thee off fromthe family.' He looked round. A murmur of approval greeted him. Adisinherited son who is also a fiddler by profession cannot be said tobelong to a respectable City family. 'We wish thee well--in thy lowersphere--among thy humble companions. Farewell.' I passed through themall with as much dignity as I could assume. 'Alas!' I heard him sayingas I stepped out. 'Alas! that cousins should so differ from each otherin grain--in grain!'
"I PASSED THROUGH THEM ALL."]
His daughters, my dear cousins, turned up their noses, coughed andflattened themselves against the wall so that I should not touch so muchas a hoop--and I saw these affectionate creatures no more, until--manythings had happened.
The Orange Girl Page 9
