|On returning to her dressing-room, after the painful interview with
Lord Courland, Mrs. Calverley sat down for a few minutes to collect
herself; and then, taking a large sheet of paper from a drawer, began to
write out a formal document.
She pursued her task, without intermission, for more than half an hour;
and then, having completed it, rang the bell for Laura.
“Shall I bring your breakfast, ma'am?” asked the lady's-maid.
“No; I do not require any breakfast,” replied Mrs. Calverley.
“Let me persuade you to take some, ma'am. You look very ill.”
“I am too busy just now,” rejoined Mrs. Calverley.
“Beg Mr. Carteret to come to me. You will find him in the library. I
also wish to see Mr. Higgins. Request him to come up to me in about five
minutes--not before.”
“I understand, ma'am.”
“Stay!” cried Mrs. Calverley. “I have several letters to write, and
shall not want you. If you like you can drive to Brackley in the
pony-carriage.”
“Oh! thank you, ma'am! May I take Monsieur Zephyrus with me?”
“Monsieur Zephyrus, and anybody else you like. You needn't take the
groom.”
Laura departed, full of glee.
Shortly afterwards, the attorney made his appearance.
“Pray sit down, sir,” she said. “I wish you to read this document.”
“Why, you have been making your will, I perceive!” he cried, as he took
the paper.
“Will it suffice?” she asked, briefly.
“It seems to me, from a hasty glance, that it will answer perfectly,” he
replied. “But we will go through it. You divide your property equally, I
find, between Chetwynd and Mildred, Quite right. But I do not approve of
the bequest of five thousand pounds to Lord Courland. However, I suppose
it must stand.”
“It must,” she observed in a peremptory tone.
Mr. Carteret then went on.
“I am much pleased that you have remembered your late husband's old
servant, John Norris. The faithful fellow well deserves the thousand
pounds you are good enough to leave him. I also observe that you have
made several minor bequests, and have not forgotten your attendant,
Laura Martin.”
“I believe Laura is attached to me,” remarked Mrs. Calverley.
“I have no doubt of it,” said Mr. Carteret. “As executors, I see you
have appointed Sir Bridgnorth Charlton and Chetwynd, with a legacy to
the former of a thousand pounds. No appointment could be more judicious.
The will requires no alteration.”
“I wish to execute it at once,” said Mrs. Calverley.
“In that case, we shall require another witness. We cannot have Norris,
since he is a legatee.”
“I have provided for that,” said Mrs. Calverley; “and have told Laura to
send up Lady Thicknesses butler, Higgins. He may be without.”
“I will see,” replied Carteret.
Finding Higgins at the door, he explained the business to him, and
brought him in.
The butler bowed respectfully, and seemed greatly struck by Mrs.
Calverley's changed appearance, but he made no remark.
“I want you to witness my will, Mr. Higgins,” she said.
“I am ready to do so, ma'am,” he replied. “But I would rather witness
any other document.”
The attorney then placed the will before Mrs. Calverley, and she
executed it with a firm hand--the two witnesses duly attesting her
signature.
This done, Higgins was about to depart, when Mrs. Calverley gave him a
purse that was lying on the table.
“This is far more than I desire or deserve, ma'am,” he said, with a
grateful bow. “But I trust you may live many and many a year, and make
half a dozen more wills.”
“I do not think I shall,” she murmured, faintly.
With another profound bow, Higgins retired.
“All is now finished, madam,” said Carteret. “Shall I take charge of the
will?”
“No; leave it with me,” she rejoined.
Seeing she did not desire to say more, the attorney hastened to depart.
She remained sitting firmly upright till he was gone, and then sank
backwards.
XXII. CHETWYND IS SUMMONED TO HIS SISTER'S ROOM, AND IS SENT BY HER TO
TERESA.--THEIR INTERVIEW.
|Meanwhile, Chetwynd had been summoned by Rose, and a very touching
spectacle met his gaze as he entered his sister's chamber.
Near the couch on which Mildred was lying, looking the very image of
death, sat Mr. Massey. Before him, on a small table, was the sacred
volume from which he had been reading, and he was offering up a prayer
for the preservation of the sick girl. Kneeling by the bedside, and
joining fervently in the prayer, was Emmeline.
With the appearance of the venerable divine--his silver locks and
benignant aspect--the reader is already familiar; but his features
now wore a saddened and anxious expression. He was really alarmed by
Mildred's state, and scarcely thought it possible she could survive.
Chetwynd and Rose had entered so noiselessly that they did not disturb
the others, and good Mr. Massey continued his prayer, quiet unconscious
he had other hearers except those close at hand.
At length he ceased, and Chetwynd advanced, and bending reverently to
the good chaplain, took his sister's hand.
Hitherto, she had not perceived him, but a smile now lighted up her
pallid features, and she murmured his name.
On hearing his approach, Emmeline rose from her kneeling posture.
“I am glad you are come, dear Chetwynd,” said Mildred. “I was afraid I
might not behold you again.”
“I would have come before, had I thought you desired to see me, dearest
sister,” he replied. “But how do you feel?”
“Somewhat better,” she replied. “Mr. Massey's consolatory words have
done me as much good as the medicines I have taken--more, perhaps!
Doctor Spencer tells me I shall recover, and I have great faith in him.”
“Trust only in Heaven, dear daughter,” observed Mr. Massey, who did not
wish her to delude herself.
“I hope I am now prepared,” she said, in a tone of perfect resignation.
“I shall quit this world without regret.”
“A frame of mind attained by few--but the best,” said the chaplain.
Here Emmeline could not restrain her tears, and Rose sobbed audibly.
“I will retire for awhile, dear daughter,” said the good chaplain,
rising. “You may have something to say to your brother.”
And he moved to a little distance with Rose.
“What would you with me, dearest sister?” asked Chetwynd, “Any
injunctions you may give me shall be strictly fulfilled.”
“I wish to see Mrs. Calverley,” she said.
“Better not,” he replied.
“I think so, too,” added Emmeline. “Her presence will only disturb you.”
“I must see her before I die,” said Mildred. “Bring her to me, if you
can. She is in her own room.”
Chetwynd made no further remonstrance, but proceeding to Mrs.
Calverley's chamber, which was on the same floor, and at no great
distance, tapped at the dressing-room door.
A faint voice bade him come in.
He found Teresa lying back in the chair, as last described, and was
quite shocked by her appearance.
“What brings you here, Chetwynd?” she asked. “Has Mr. Carteret sent
you?”
“No,” he replied. “I have come to tell you that Mildred desires greatly
to see you.”
“I am unable to move, as you perceive, or I would go to her. What does
she desire to say to me? Any question you may ask me in her name I will
answer.”
“In her name, then, I ask you--as you will have to answer at the bar
of the divine tribunal--have you endeavoured to take away her life by
poison?”
The wretched woman made an effort to speak; but her power of utterance
completely failed her.
“Since you do not deny the charge, I hold you guilty,” he said.
“I am guilty,” she replied. “The attempt has been twice made.”
“Twice!” ejaculated Chetwynd. “Had you no pity on her?”
“None,” replied Teresa. “My heart was hardened. She stood in my way, and
I did not hesitate to remove her.”
“Horrible!” exclaimed Chetwynd. “But your murderous design has failed.
She will recover.”
“You may not believe me when I tell you I am glad to hear it,” replied
Teresa. “Nevertheless, it is so. The infernal fire that burnt for a
time so fiercely in my breast is extinguished. I had listened to the
promptings of the Evil One, and bartered my soul to him for worldly
gain that will profit me nothing. If I could, I would pray for Mildred's
recovery; but Heaven would not listen to me.”
“You cannot judge of the extent of Heaven's mercy. If your repentance is
sincere, you may be forgiven.”
“Alas! I have sinned too deeply! I have no hope for the future; but I
have striven to make atonement for my crimes.”
“Atonement!--in what way?” demanded Chetwynd.
“By restoring the whole of the property I have wrongfully taken from you
and your sister. There is my will,” she added, pointing to it. “When
you examine it you will see what I have done, and I trust you will be
satisfied.”
Chetwynd stared at her in astonishment, almost doubting whether he heard
aright.
“Convince yourself that I have spoken the truth,” she said.
Chetwynd opened the will, and glanced at its contents.
She kept her eye fixed upon him as he did so.
“I see it is in your own handwriting,” he remarked.
“But do you perceive that I have left my entire property, excepting
certain bequests, to yourself and Mildred?”
“I do,” he replied.
“Do you likewise notice that I have appointed you and your friend, Sir
Bridgnorth Charlton, joint executors of my will?”
“I do.”
“Are you satisfied?”
He made no reply.
“You do not answer.”
“You have deceived me often, and may be deceiving me now,” he rejoined.
She uttered something like a groan, and then said: “I cannot blame your
incredulity. But keep the will--keep it securely. It will soon come into
operation.”
“I cannot misunderstand the dark hint you have just thrown out,” cried
Chetwynd. “You have swallowed poison.”
“Seek to know no more,” she rejoined. “You had best remain in
ignorance.”
“Instant assistance must be obtained!” he cried. “You must not die
thus!”
“Nothing will save me,” she replied.
“Do you refuse spiritual aid?” he cried. “Good Mr. Massey is with
Mildred; will you see him?”
“I will,” she rejoined. “Send him to me--send him quickly, or it may be
too late.”
Chetwynd hastily departed, but in a very short space of time returned
with the chaplain.
Mr. Massey had been told why he was summoned, and regarded the dying
woman with profound compassion, being greatly touched by her appearance.
“We must be alone and undisturbed,” he said to Chetwynd.
“I will keep watch outside,” replied the other. “No one shall enter.”
And, with a pitying look at Teresa, he quitted the room.