MRS. CARTWRIGHT'S LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT.
It was probably the love of seeing an enemy mortified,--which, it may be
feared, is too common to all men,--which induced the Vicar of Wrexhill,
notwithstanding the deep aversion he felt for Sir Gilbert Harrington, to
suffer him not only to be invited to attend Mrs. Cartwright's funeral,
but also to be present at the opening of her will.
To both invitations the baronet returned a gracious acceptance, and
accordingly once more found himself at the Park on the day that its
gates were again to open to the funeral array of its owner.
Charles Mowbray, as Sir Gilbert's carriage drew up, stood ready on the
steps of the mansion to receive him; and tears moistened the eyes of
both as they silently shook hands and entered the drawing-room, where
the funeral guests were assembled.
The room was full. Not only all such saintly scions of the new birth as
their esprit de corps always brought together were present there, but as
many of the neighbouring gentry as he could collect were now assembled
to witness the proud fanatic's crowning triumph. One circumstance only
tended to damp the happiness of this full success, this great conclusion
to all his hopes and wishes,--his son was not present at it: and indeed
so great had been the licence granted him, that he was at this time
wandering, his proud father knew not where.
Nothing however, notwithstanding his deep-felt happiness, could be
better got up than Mr. Cartwright's sorrow as he watched his wife laid
in the tomb: never was white cambric used with better grace. Poor
Charles the while sheltered himself behind the stalwart figure of Sir
Gilbert, and wept unseen.
Nearly the whole of the company who attended the funeral were invited to
be present at the ceremony of opening of the will, which it was the
pleasure of the bereaved widower should follow immediately after it.
Again the large drawing-room was surrounded by a circle of sable guests;
not one of whom but felt more than usual curiosity at the opening a will
upon which hung so large a property, and concerning which there were
such conflicting interests.
Sir Gilbert considerately led his friend Charles into a corner where he
was not conspicuous, and placed himself beside him; both of them being
in good part concealed by the tall and portly person of a gentleman whom
young Mowbray had never seen before, and whom indeed several persons,
not too much interested in the scene to note what passed, had observed
to enter with the funeral train after its return from the church,
although he had not been present at the interment.
It is probable, however, that the master of the house himself was not
aware of this; for he took no notice of him, and was in fact too fully
occupied by the business afoot to know more or to think more of those
around him than that they were there to witness the proudest and
happiest moment of his life.
All the company being seated, and mute attentive silence hovering over
all, Mr. Corbold, after bowing to two or three distinguished personages,
whose seats were placed near the table at which he had stationed himself
as if to assure their attentive witnessing of the act he was about to
perform, broke open the seals of the parchment he held in his hand, and
having spread it fairly open upon the table, read its contents aloud
with a clear voice.
Never man had a more attentive auditory; no sound or movement
interrupted the lecture; and when it was concluded, a murmur only, of
rather shame-faced congratulation from the particular friends of Mr.
Cartwright, broke the continued silence.
Something, meanwhile, very like a groan burst from the breast of the
unhappy Mowbray; but Sir Gilbert Harrington hemmed so stoutly at the
same moment, that no one heard it.
The company had already risen from their seats, and some were crowding
round the meek and tranquil-looking vicar,--nay, one active carrier of
evil tidings had slipped out of the room to inform Miss Torrington and
Fanny of the nature of the departed lady's testament,--when the tall
gentleman who sat before the disinherited son arose, and with great
politeness requested the attention of the company for one moment before
they separated, for the purpose of hearing a document which he should be
happy to have the pleasure of reading to them, and which, if not of so
extraordinary a nature as the one they had just listened to, and
therefore less likely to excite general attention, was at least of later
date.
Every one appeared to listen to this address with interest, and nearly
the whole company immediately reseated themselves. Some keen-eyed
persons fancied they perceived the Vicar of Wrexhill change colour; but
they were probably mistaken; for when Mr. Corbold whispered to him, "In
the name of Heaven, what does this mean, cousin!--You never left her,
did you?" he replied, also in a whisper, but in a steady voice, "Never
for time enough to draw a codicil,--it is impossible!" And having so
spoken, he too reseated himself in the attitude of a listener.
The tall gentleman then drew forth from his pocket another parchment,
purporting to be the last will of the same lady, containing even more
skins that the first; and running over with technical volubility a
preamble, only important as describing the testator's state of mind, he
proceeded to the more essential portion of the document, and then read
slowly and loudly, so that all men might hear, the bequest of all she
died possessed of to her beloved son Charles Mowbray; the only
deductions being legacies of fifty thousand pounds to each of her
younger children, and her jewels to her daughter Helen, provided that
within one year from the date of the will she should marry, or have
married, Colonel William Harrington, of his Majesty's ---- Dragoons.
The name of Cartwright appeared not in any shape; probably because the
provision for her younger children would have included the infant yet
unborn when this will was made, had it survived her.
This document was as fully and satisfactorily signed, sealed, witnessed,
and delivered, as the former one; the only difference being that it was
dated some months later.
The pen that has traced these events is too feeble to portray the state
into which this change of scenery and decorations threw the Vicar of
Wrexhill. It would have been a great mercy for him if he had altogether
lost his senses; but no symptom of this sort appeared, beyond a short
paroxysm, during which he called upon Heaven to witness his promise of
going to law with Mr. Mowbray for the purpose of setting aside his
mother's will.
After the first buzz produced by this second lecture had subsided, Sir
Gilbert Harrington arose and addressed the company with equal good taste
and good feeling. A few minutes' conversation with his young friend Mr.
Mowbray, he said, authorized him to assure the Vicar of Wrexhill that
whatever private property he could lay claim to (a wag here whispered,
"Sermons, surplices, and the like") should be packed up and sent to the
Vicarage, or any other place he would name, with the utmost attention
and care. He added very succinctly, and without a single syllable
unnecessarily irritating, that circumstances connected with the
situation of the ladies of the family rendered it necessary that the
reverend gentleman should not continue in the house; a necessity which,
it might be hoped, would be the less inconvenient from the circumstance
of his former residence being so near.
While his old friend was uttering this extremely judicious harangue,
Charles escaped by a side door from the room, and bounding up the stairs
to Rosalind's dressing-room, where (though as yet he had hardly spoken
to her) he pretty well knew she was sitting with his sister Fanny, he
burst open the door, rushed in, and fell on his knees before her,
clasping her most daringly in his arms, and almost devouring her hands
with kisses.
Fanny stood perfectly aghast at this scene. During the few days that
Charles had been at home she had truly grieved to see the decided
coldness and estrangement that was between Rosalind and him; and what
could have produced this sudden change she was totally unable to guess.
Not one of the family party had entertained the slightest doubt that the
will, which Mr. Cartwright had more than once alluded to, was such as to
render his late wife's children wholly dependent upon him; and this
painful expectation had been already fully confirmed: but even if it had
proved otherwise, Fanny knew no reason why this should so change the
conduct of Charles towards Miss Torrington.
Not so, however, the young lady herself. The vehement caresses of
Mowbray explained the whole matter to her as fully and as clearly as the
will itself could have done; and if she did bend forward her head till
her dark tresses almost covered his--and if under that thick veil she
impressed a wild and rapid kiss of joy upon his forehead, most people
would forgive her if they knew how well she had all the while guessed at
his misery, and how often her young heart had ached to think of it.
This impropriety, however, such as it was, was really the only one
committed on the occasion. Sir Gilbert was an excellent man of business,
as was likewise the tall gentleman his attorney; so seals were put upon
all plate-chests, jewel-cases, and the like, except such as were proved
satisfactorily by Mr. Stephen Corbold to have been purchased since the
marriage of the widow Mowbray and Mr. Cartwright. All such were given
over to the packing-cases of the serious attorney and the serious
butler, and at half-past nine p.m. the Vicar of Wrexhill stepped into
his recently-purchased (but not paid-for) travelling carriage, and
turned his back on the Park--once more _Mowbray Park_--for ever.
* * * * *
But little remains to be said that may not easily be guessed at by the
accomplished novel-reader:--and for such, of course, these pages are
prepared.
Little Mary Richards speedily became Lady Hilton; and Fanny Mowbray,
during a visit of some months at her Scotch castle, learned to think of
her religious sufferings with sufficient composure to enable her once
more to look forward as well as around her, with hope and enjoyment. And
who is there that can doubt that the lovely Fanny Mowbray, with
recovered senses and fifty thousand pounds, even though she did for ever
abandon her poetic pursuits, met, at no very advanced age, with a
husband worthy of her?
The two tall Misses Richards ceased to be serious as soon as it became
decidedly _mauvais ton_ at Wrexhill to be so: and in process of time
they too married; leaving their charming little mother leisure to
cultivate the friendship of Rosalind, who retained her partiality for
her, and enjoyed her friendship and society for many happy years.
Need it be said that Rosalind and Helen were married on the same
day?--So it was, however; and Mr. Edward Wallace performed the ceremony,
the Vicar of Wrexhill being indisposed. Indeed the air of the Vicarage
evidently disagreed with him; but, by the influence of some of the most
distinguished of his party, both in religion and politics, he soon
obtained an exchange with a gentleman who held preferment in the Fens.
He did not, however, obtain a mitre, though a great many serious people
declared that he deserved it: a disappointment which was perhaps the
more cutting from the circumstance of Mr. Jacob's having joined a troop
of strolling players; and as he was not sufficiently successful amongst
them to add any glory thereby to the family name, the loss of episcopal
honours was the more severely felt.
Every thing else, I think, went just as it ought to do. Poor Miss Mimima
was sent off to her mamma, who never again ventured to show her face at
Wrexhill; probably fearing that she might cease to be considered as the
principal person of the village.
Mr. Mowbray speedily re-established Mr. Marsh in his school; the old
lawyer and apothecary returned; the newly-hired serious servants
retreated before the returning honest ones--and, in short, a whole
flight of fanaticals followed their incomparable vicar, till the pretty
village of Wrexhill once more became happy and gay, and the memory of
their serious epidemic rendered its inhabitants the most orderly,
peaceable, and orthodox population in the whole country.
THE END.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Vicar of Wrexhill, by Mrs [Frances] Trollope