LADY HALCOT'S WILL.
"IT is such rest to have you here," Gwendoline said repeatedly to her
mother; and the sense of rest grew upon her hour by hour.
There was necessarily much to be done and much to be heard, mournful
in kind; but Mrs. Halcombe took things into her own hands, sparing her
child in every possible way. When the first excitement of their meeting
was over, Gwendoline proved to be temporarily unwell enough, from all
she had gone through, to need being spared.
Miss Withers did not appear at breakfast that morning, and an encounter
between her and Mrs. Halcombe was thus delayed until near luncheon.
When the said encounter took place, it was quiet, not to say prosaic in
kind. Mrs. Halcombe said politely, "How do you do?" And, after a return
of the utterance, "I hope you are well. This has been a very trying
week for you all."
Miss Withers assented, with downcast eyes, and a murmur of "Thanks,
yes,—exceedingly trying," and appeared anxious to get away as soon as
possible.
During the next few days she studiously shunned both mother and
daughter, and looked unhappy.
The funeral was conducted with heavy solemn grandeur, according to
Halcot and Riversmouth traditions.
Afterward came the reading of the will; a singular document, with
its weighty addenda in the shape of long codicils carefully undoing
previous arrangements.
Mrs. Halcombe and Gwendoline were, of course, present; as also were
Miss Withers, Mr. Rossiter, and Mr. Fosbrook. Mr. Selwyn had come down
from London for the occasion. The nephew, known to be the heir-at-law,
had made his appearance in time for the funeral; and there were also
three or four distant relatives, elderly gentlemen, all more or less
grave, embarrassed, and expectant. Gwendoline, treated by all as in
a sense the daughter of the house, was thankful for the help of her
mother's presence. Mrs. Halcombe quietly took the lead, and, by Mr.
Selwyn's advice, acted as temporary hostess.
The Riversmouth estate, together with the title, descended as a matter
of course to the said nephew, a gentlemanly young man, Philip Halcot by
name. Most of the later alterations in the will were in respect of Lady
Halcot's disposable property, inherited chiefly from her mother.
The large sums set apart for hospital and almshouses had been left
untouched; as, too, were legacies to the amount of nearly twenty
thousand pounds, left to numerous friends and distant relatives,
including the three or four present on this occasion. Old servants and
family retainers also were not forgotten. In place of four thousand
pounds to Miss Withers, five hundred pounds were left to her, and five
hundred to each of her two nieces and to Conrad.
Mrs. Halcombe found herself the possessor of thirteen thousand pounds,
in addition to the yearly five hundred already given, both to be
held in trust; the thirteen thousand pounds to revert to Gwendoline
on her own death; the annual five hundred to become Gwendoline's on
either her own or her husband's death, whichever was the survivor. To
Gwendoline immediately was left the bulk of Lady Halcot's personal
possessions,—jewellery, plate, books, pictures, many valuable
knickknacks, and numerous articles of furniture.
"No inconsiderable legacy," the lawyer remarked in an undertone.
At the moment Gwendoline did not at all realize the worth of that which
had fallen to her share.
"Mother, how good Lady Halcot has been to us! I am glad it is not
more," she breathed to Mrs. Halcombe in an undertone, as the party
present filed slowly out of the room, leaving only herself and her
mother with Mr. Selwyn.
One pale-faced disappointed woman, passing out among the rest, could
not have echoed these words.
"I am glad it is as much," Mr. Selwyn said, rising and coming nearer.
"There was a time when I feared matters would have a different ending.
Accept my sincere congratulations, Mrs. Halcombe. I only wish it were
more."
"Don't wish that," Mrs. Halcombe answered, with a rather tremulous
smile. "Gwen and I do not. This will be wealth to us."
"The jewels are a property in themselves," remarked Mr. Selwyn. "There
are some, handed down from the Halcots, which Lady Halcot did not think
she could rightly alienate from the estate. The larger proportion of
her jewellery was, however, inherited from her mother; and the bulk of
this is left to Miss Halcombe."
"Lady Halcot showed me some of her jewels once," said Gwendoline. "I
thought them very pretty."
Mr. Selwyn could not resist a smile. He repeated the word "Pretty!" and
stroked his chin. "Yes, undoubtedly. There are many more than you have
seen, however. The value of the jewellery alone, which now belongs to
you, amounts at the lowest estimate to several thousand pounds. They
are a property in themselves," he repeated complacently. "The diamonds
are particularly fine,—and there are good turquoises."
"I shall hardly know what to do with them," said Gwendoline.
"You will, of course, have them in a place of safety, my dear Miss
Halcombe."
"I suppose I may keep out a brooch or two for use," said Gwendoline.
"And I should like to have by me the ones that Lady Halcot used
commonly. May I give something to Ruth,—a brooch and a bracelet, I
mean?" She looked eagerly now at the lawyer.
"They are your own, and you are of age," said Mr. Selwyn. "But I would
advise you not to act too hastily,—not to part with anything that you
might regret later."
"Oh, I shall not regret. The best part of having more is to be able to
give away," said Gwendoline. "Mother, there is a beautiful little ruby
brooch which would just do for Ruth; she does so admire rubies. And I
should like to take Honor a gold bracelet,—quite a plain one."
"There are the pictures also," observed Mr. Selwyn, after a rather
dissatisfied pause; "not to speak of a very handsome supply of plate."
Gwendoline seemed rather bewildered. "The plate will be useful, of
course," she said. "I know we are always short of spoons and forks. But
the pictures,—we have so little room at home."
"The number of pictures is not great, but they are of very considerable
value. Possibly you may not always remain in your present home," said
Mr. Selwyn.
"No; I have had that in my mind," said Mrs. Halcombe. "We have so often
wished to move, and have not felt Justified in going to the expense.
But things will be different now. I am sure my husband will agree with
me in thinking that the right time has come."
"A house in the country," suggested the lawyer, "within reasonable
distance of London, so that the boys could run in and out by train. The
pictures and furniture would prove no slight assistance in the event of
such a move; until, of course, Miss Halcombe finds a home of her own."
"No fear of 'that' for a long while to come," Gwendoline answered,
smiling and not blushing.
Somewhat later, when alone with her mother, Gwendoline asked, "Mother,
did you notice Miss Withers' face while the will was being read?"
"Yes, I saw. I was sorry for her."
"I wish one could say something to her, mother."
"Something of what sort?"
"Why, to help her. She looks so unhappy."
"I don't quite know what could be said. We have our suspicions—more
than suspicions—as to her share in the alterations which were made in
the will. But it would hardly do to allude to those suspicions, Gwen."
"No, of course not. Only, if one could gain her confidence, mother!"
"If one could! There is not much hope, I am afraid. She rebuffs most
decidedly all approaches on my part."
"And on mine too. Yes, that is the difficulty. I have hardly had a
dozen words from her for days."
Nor was Gwendoline to have many more. Two hours later, a closed fly
stood before the door, and some large boxes were carried out. Miss
Withers presently entered the drawing-room, wearing her bonnet, and
carrying a small travelling-bag. She seemed composed as usual, except
that her under lip twitched nervously.
"I have come to say good-bye to your daughter, Mrs. Halcombe," the
smooth voice said.
"Are you going already?" asked Gwendoline in surprise.
"There is no object in my remaining longer. I believe you and Mrs.
Halcombe leave to-morrow?"
"The day after," Mrs. Halcombe answered, for she found much still to be
arranged.
"There is no object in my remaining," Miss Withers said again, with the
slight twitch of her lip. "I—I had a letter yesterday from one of my
nieces, deciding me to hasten away."
"You will have tea before starting?" said Gwendoline kindly.
"Thanks,—no; I do not require anything, and the journey is not long."
"Perhaps some day you will write and tell me how you are getting on,"
said Gwendoline.
"Thanks. You are very good;" and Miss Withers extended a limp hand.
"Good-bye."
"Good-bye. I hope you will have a pleasant journey," Gwendoline said,
kindly still, though with an effort.
"Good-bye," added Mrs. Halcombe.
Miss Withers passed out of the room, and speedily drove away, dropping
thus in a moment, as it were, out of Gwendoline's life.
Miss Withers went to reside in the same town with her nieces, bitter
in spirit at her failure; and Lady Halcot's legacies sowed dissension
between them and herself.