"Yet, all is o'er!--fear, doubt, suspense, are fled,
Let brighter thoughts be with the virtuous dead!
The final ordeal of the soul is past,
And the pale brow is sealed to Heaven at last."
MRS. HEMANS.
It will be easily supposed that Tom Wychecombe witnessed the proceedings
related in the preceding chapter with dismay. The circumstance that he
actually possessed a _bona fide_ will of his uncle, which left him heir
of all the latter owned, real or personal, had made him audacious, and
first induced him to take the bold stand of asserting his legitimacy,
and of claiming all its consequences. He had fully determined to assume
the title on the demise of Sir Wycherly; plausibly enough supposing
that, as there was no heir to the baronetcy, the lands once in his quiet
possession, no one would take sufficient interest in the matter to
dispute his right to the rank. Here, however, was a blow that menaced
death to all his hopes. His illegitimacy seemed to be known to others,
and there was every prospect of a new will's supplanting the old one, in
its more important provisions, at least. He was at a loss to imagine
what had made this sudden change in his uncle's intentions; for he did
not sufficiently understand himself, to perceive that the few months of
close communion which had succeeded the death of his reputed father, had
sufficed to enlighten Sir Wycherly on the subject of his own true
character, and to awaken a disgust that had remained passive, until
suddenly aroused by the necessity of acting; and, least of all, could he
understand how surprisingly the moral vision of men is purified and
enlarged, as respects both the past and the future, by the near approach
of death. Although symptoms of strong dissatisfaction escaped him, he
quieted his feelings as much as possible, cautiously waiting for any
occurrence that might be used in setting aside the contemplated
instrument, hereafter; or, what would be still better, to defeat its
execution, now.
As soon as the necessary preparations were made, Atwood, his pen nibbed,
ink at hand, and paper spread, was ready to proceed: and a breathless
stillness existing in the chamber, Sir Gervaise resumed the subject on
which they were convened.
"Atwood will read to you what he has already written, Sir Wycherly," he
said; "should the phraseology be agreeable to you, you will have the
goodness to make a sign to that effect. Well, if all is ready, you can
now commence--hey! Atwood?"
"'In the name of God, Amen,'" commenced the methodical secretary; "'I,
Wycherly Wychecombe, Bart., of Wychecombe-Hall, in the county of Devon,
being of sound mind, but of a feeble state of health, and having the
view of death before my eyes, revoking all other wills, codicils, or
testamentary devises, whatsoever, do make and declare this instrument to
be my last will and testament: that is to say, Imprimis, I do hereby
constitute and appoint ---- ---- of ----, the executor of this my said
will, with all the powers and authority that the law gives, or may
hereafter give to said executor. Secondly, I give and bequeath to ----.'
This is all that is yet written, Sir Gervaise, blanks being left for the
name or names of the executor or executors, as well for the 's' at the
end of 'executor,' should the testator see fit to name more than one."
"There, Sir Reginald," said the vice-admiral, not altogether without
exultation; "this is the way we prepare these things on board a
man-of-war! A flag-officer's secretary needs have himself qualified to
do any thing, short of a knowledge of administering to the cure of
souls!"
"And the cure of bodies, ye'll be permitting me to add, Sir Gervaise,"
observed Magrath, taking an enormous pinch of a strong yellow snuff.
"Our secretary would make but a lubberly fist at turning off a delicate
turtle-soup out of pig's-head; such as we puts on our table at sea, so
often," muttered Galleygo in the ear of Mrs. Larder.
"I see nothing to object to, Sir Gervaise, if the language is agreeable
to Sir Wycherly," answered the barrister by profession, though not by
practice. "It would be advisable to get his approbation of even the
language."
"That we intend to do, of course, sir. Sir Wycherly, do you find the
terms of this will to your liking?"
Sir Wycherly smiled, and very clearly gave the sign of assent.
"I thought as much--for, Atwood has made the wills of two admirals, and
of three captains, to my knowledge; and my Lord Chief Justice said that
one of the last would have done credit to the best conveyancer in
England, and that it was a pity the testator had nothing to bequeath.
Now, Sir Wycherly, will you have one executor, or more? If _one_, hold
up a single finger; and a finger for each additional executor you wish
us to insert in these blanks. One, Atwood--you perceive, gentlemen, that
Sir Wycherly raises but _one_ finger; and so you can give a flourish at
the end of the 'r,' as the word will be in the singular;--hey! Atwood?"
The secretary did as directed, and then reported himself ready to
proceed.
"It will be necessary for you now to _name_ your executor, Sir
Wycherly--make as little effort as possible, as we shall understand the
name, alone."
Sir Wycherly succeeded in uttering the name of "Sir Reginald
Wychecombe," quite audibly.
"This is plain enough," resumed the vice-admiral; "how does the sentence
read now, Atwood?"
"'_Imprimis:_--I do hereby constitute and appoint Sir Reginald
Wychecombe of Wychecombe-Regis, in the county of Herts, Baronet, the
executor of this my said will, &c.'"
"If that clause is to your liking, Sir Wycherly, have the goodness to
give the sign agreed on."
The sick man smiled, nodded his head, raised his hand, and looked
anxiously at his kinsman.
"I consent to serve, Sir Wycherly, if such is your desire," observed the
nominee, who detected the meaning of his kinsman's look.
"And now, sir," continued the vice-admiral; "it is necessary to ask you
a few questions, in order that Atwood may know what next to write. Is it
your desire to bequeath any real estate?" Sir Wycherly assented. "Do you
wish to bequeath _all_ your real estate?" The same sign of assent was
given. "Do you wish to bequeath _all_ to one person?" The sign of assent
was given to this also. "This makes plain sailing, and a short
run,--hey! Atwood?"
The secretary wrote as fast as possible, and in two or three minutes he
read aloud, as follows--
"'Secondly, I make and declare the following bequests or devises--that
is to say, I give and bequeath to ---- ---- of ------, all the real
estate of which I may die seised, together with all the houses,
tenements, hereditaments, and appurtenances thereunto belonging, and all
my rights to the same, whether in law or equity, to be possessed and
enjoyed by the said ---- ---- of ------ in fee, by ---- heirs,
executors, administrators, or assigns, for ever.' There are blanks for
the name and description, as well as for the sex of the devisee," added
the secretary.
"All very proper and legal, I believe, Sir Reginald?--I am glad you
think so, sir. Now, Sir Wycherly, we wait for the name of the lucky
person you mean thus to favour."
"Sir Reginald Wychecombe," the sick man uttered, painfully;
"half-blood--no _nullus_. Sir Michael's heir--_my_ heir."
"This is plain English!" cried Sir Gervaise, in the way of a man who is
not displeased; "put in the name of 'Sir Reginald Wychecombe of
Wychecombe-Regis, Herts,' Atwood--ay--that justs fills the blank
handsomely--you want '_his_ heirs, executors, &c.' in the other blank."
"I beg your pardon, Sir Gervaise; it should read 'by _himself, his_
heirs, &c.'"
"Very true--very true, Atwood. Now read it slowly, and Sir Wycherly will
assent, if he approve."
This was done, and Sir Wycherly not only approved, but it was apparent
to all present, the abashed and confounded Tom himself not excepted,
that he approved, with a feeling akin to delight.
"That gives a black eye to all the land,--hey! Atwood?" said Sir
Gervaise; who, by this time, had entered into the business in hand, with
all the interest of a regular notary--or, rather, with that of one, on
whose shoulders rested the responsibility of success or failure. "We
come next to the personals. Do you wish to bequeath your furniture,
wines, horses, carriages, and other things of that sort, to any
particular person, Sir Wycherly?"
"All--Sir Reginald--Wychecombe--half-blood--old Sir Michael's heir,"
answered the testator.
"Good--clap that down, Atwood, for it is doing the thing, as I like to
see family affairs settled. As soon as you are ready, let us hear how it
sounds in writing."
"I furthermore bequeath to the said Sir Reginald Wychecombe of
Wychecombe-Regis, as aforesaid, baronet, all my personal property,
whatsoever,'" read Atwood, as soon as ready; "'including furniture,
wines, pictures, books, horses and carriages, and all other goods and
chattels, of which I may die possessed, excepting thereout and
therefrom, nevertheless, such sums in money, stocks, bonds, notes, or
other securities for debts, or such articles as I may in this instrument
especially devise to any other person.' We can now go to especial
legacies, Sir Gervaise, and then another clause may make Sir Reginald
residuary legatee, if such be Sir Wycherly's pleasure."
"If you approve of that clause, my dear sir, make the usual sign of
assent."
Sir Wycherly both raised his hand and nodded his head, evidently quite
satisfied.
"Now, my good sir, we come to the pounds--no--guineas? You like that
better--well, I confess that it sounds better on the ear, and is more in
conformity with the habits of gentlemen. Will you now bequeath guineas?
Good--first name the legatee--is that right, Sir Reginald?"
"Quite right, Sir Gervaise; and Sir Wycherly will understand that he now
names the first person to whom he wishes to bequeath any thing else."
"Milly," muttered the sick man.
"What? Mills!--the mills go with the lands, Sir Reginald?"
"He means Miss Mildred Dutton," eagerly interposed Wycherly, though with
sufficient modesty.
"Yes--right--right," added the testator. "Little Milly--Milly
Dutton--good little Milly."
Sir Gervaise hesitated, and looked round at Bluewater, as much as to say
"this is bringing coals to Newcastle;" but Atwood took the idea, and
wrote the bequest, in the usual form.
"'I give and bequeath to Mildred Dutton,'" he read aloud, "'daughter of
Francis Dutton of the Royal Navy, the sum of ----' what sum shall I fill
the blank with, Sir Wycherly?"
"Three--three--yes, three."
"Hundreds or thousands, my good sir?" asked Sir Gervaise, a little
surprised at the amount of the bequest.
"Guineas--three--thousand--guineas--five per cents."
"That's as plain as logarithms. Give the young lady three thousand
guineas in the fives, Atwood."
"'I give and bequeath to Mildred Dutton, daughter of Francis Dutton of
the Royal Navy, the sum of three thousand guineas in the five per cent.
stocks of this kingdom.' Will that do, Sir Wycherly?"
The old man looked at Mildred and smiled benevolently; for, at that
moment, he felt he was placing the pure and lovely girl above the
ordinary contingencies of her situation, by rendering her independent.
"Whose name shall we next insert, Sir Wycherly?" resumed the
vice-admiral. "There must be many more of these guineas left."
"Gregory--and--James--children of my brother Thomas--Baron
Wychecombe--five thousand guineas each," added the testator, making a
great effort to express his meaning as clearly as possible.
He was understood; and, after a short consultation with the
vice-admiral, Atwood wrote out the devise at length.
"'I give and bequeath to my nephews, Gregory and James Wychecombe, the
reputed sons of my late brother, Thomas Wychecombe, one of the Barons of
His Majesty's Exchequer, the sum of five thousand guineas, each, in the
five per cent. funded debt of this kingdom.'"
"Do you approve of the devise, Sir Wycherly? if so, make the usual sign
of assent?"
Sir Wycherly complied, as in all the previous cases of his approval.
"Whose name shall we next insert, in readiness for a legacy, Sir
Wycherly?" asked the admiral.
Here was a long pause, the baronet evidently turning over in his mind,
what he had done, and what yet remained to do.
"Spread yourselves, my friends, in such a way as to permit the testator
to see you all," continued the vice-admiral, motioning with his hand to
widen the circle around the bed, which had been contracted a little by
curiosity and interest; "stand more this way, _Lieutenant Wycherly
Wychecombe_, that the ladies may see and be seen; and you, too, Mr.
Thomas Wychecombe, come further in front, where your uncle will observe
you."
This speech pretty exactly reflected the workings of the speaker's mind.
The idea that Wycherly was a natural child of the baronet's,
notwithstanding the Virginian story, was uppermost in his thoughts; and,
taking the supposed fact in connection with the young man's merit, he
earnestly desired to obtain a legacy for him. As for Tom, he cared
little whether his name appeared in the will or not. Justice was now
substantially done, and the judge's property being sufficient for his
wants, the present situation of the lately reputed heir excited but
little sympathy. Nevertheless, Sir Gervaise thought it would be
generous, under the circumstances, to remind the testator that such a
being as Tom Wychecombe existed.
"Here is your nephew, Mr. Thomas, Sir Wycherly," he said; "is it your
wish to let his name appear in your will?"
The sick man smiled coldly; but he moved his head, as much as to imply
assent.
"'I give and bequeath to Thomas Wychecombe, the eldest reputed son of my
late brother, Thomas, one of the Barons of His Majesty's Exchequer,'"
read Atwood, when the clause was duly written; "'the sum of ----, in the
five per cent. stocks of this kingdom.'"
"What sum will you have inserted, Sir Wycherly?" asked the vice-admiral.
"Fifty--fifty--_pounds_" said the testator, in a voice clearer and
fuller than he had before used that day.
The necessary words were immediately inserted; the clause, as completed,
was read again, and the approval was confirmed by a distinctly
pronounced "yes." Tom started, but, as all the others maintained their
self-command, the business of the moment did not the less proceed.
"Do you wish any more names introduced into your will, Sir Wycherly?"
asked the vice-admiral. "You have bequeathed but--a-a-a--how much--hey!
Atwood?--ay, ten and three are thirteen, and fifty _pounds_, make
£13,180; and I hear you have £20,000 funded, besides loose cash, beyond
a doubt."
"Ann Larder--Samuel Cork--Richard Bitts--David Brush--Phoebe Keys," said
Sir Wycherly, slowly, giving time after each pause, for Atwood to write;
naming his cook, butler, groom, valet or body-servant, and housekeeper,
in the order they have been laid before the reader.
"How much to each, Sir Wycherly?--I see Atwood has made short work, and
put them all in the same clause--that will never do, unless the legacies
are the same."
"Good--good--right," muttered the testator;
"£200--each--£1000--all--money--money."
This settled the point, and the clause was regularly written, read, and
approved.
"This raises the money bequests to £14,180, Sir Wycherly--some 6 or
£7000 more must remain to be disposed of. Stand a little further this
way, if you please, Mr. _Wycherly_ Wychecombe, and allow the ladies more
room. Whose name shall we insert next, sir?"
Sir Wycherly, thus directed by the eager desire of the admiral to serve
the gallant lieutenant, fastened his eyes on the young man, regarding
him quite a minute in silent attention.
"Virginian--same name--American--colonies--good lad--_brave_
lad--£1000," muttered the sick man between his teeth; and, yet so
breathless was the quiet of the chamber, at that moment, every syllable
was heard by all present. "Yes--£1000--Wycherly Wychecombe--royal
navy--"
Atwood's pen was running rapidly over the paper, and had just reached
the name of the contemplated legatee, when his hand was arrested by the
voice of the young man himself.
"Stop, Mr. Atwood--do not insert any clause in my favour!" cried
Wycherly, his face the colour of crimson, and his chest heaving with the
emotions he felt it so difficult to repress. "I decline the legacy--it
will be useless to write it, as I will not receive a shilling."
"Young sir," said Sir Gervaise, with a little of the severity of a
superior, when he rebukes an interior, in his manner; "you speak
hastily. It is not the office of an auditor or of a spectator, to repel
the kindness of a man about to pass from the face of the earth, into the
more immediate presence of his God!"
"I have every sentiment of respect for Sir Wycherly Wychecombe,
sir;--every friendly wish for his speedy recovery, and a long evening to
his life; but, I will accept of the money of no man who holds my country
in such obvious distaste, as, it is apparent, the testator holds mine."
"You are an Englishman, I believe, _Lieutenant_ Wychecombe; and a
servant of King George II.?"
"I am _not_ an Englishman, Sir Gervaise Oakes--but an American; a
Virginian, entitled to all the rights and privileges of a British
subject. I am no more an Englishman, than Dr. Magrath may lay claim to
the same character."
"This is putting the case strongly,--hey! Atwood?" answered the
vice-admiral, smiling in spite of the occasion. "I am far from saying
that you are an Englishman, in all senses, sir; but you are one in the
sense that gives you national character and national rights. You are a
_subject_ of _England_."
"No, Sir Gervaise; your pardon. I am the subject of George II., but in
no manner a subject of _England_. I am, in one sense, perhaps, a subject
of the British empire; but I am not the less a Virginian, and an
American. Not a shilling of any man's money will I ever touch, who
expresses his contempt for either."
"You forget yourself, young man, and overlook the future. The hundred or
two of prize-money, bought at the expense of your blood, in the late
affair at Groix, will not last for ever."
"It is gone, already, sir, every shilling of it having been sent to the
widow of the boatswain who was killed at my side. I am no beggar, Sir
Gervaise Oakes, though only an American. I am the owner of a plantation,
which affords me a respectable independence, already; and I do not serve
from necessity, but from choice. Perhaps, if Sir Wycherly knew this, he
would consent to omit my name. I honour and respect him; would gladly
relieve his distress, either of body or mind; but I cannot consent to
accept his money when offered on terms I consider humiliating."
This was said modestly, but with a warmth and sincerity which left no
doubt that the speaker was in earnest. Sir Gervaise too much respected
the feelings of the young man to urge the matter any further, and he
turned towards the bed, in expectation of what the sick man might next
say. Sir Wycherly heard and understood all that passed, and it did not
fail to produce an impression, even in the state to which he was
reduced. Kind-hearted, and indisposed to injure even a fly, all the
natural feelings of the old man resumed their ascendency, and he would
gladly have given every shilling of his funded property to be able
freely to express his compunction at having ever uttered a syllable that
could offend sensibilities so noble and generous. But this exceeded his
powers, and he was fain to do the best he could, in the painful
situation in which he was placed.
"Noble fellow!" he stuttered out; "honour to name--come here--Sir
Gervaise--bring here--"
"I believe it is the wish of Sir Wycherly, that you would draw near the
bed, Mr. Wychecombe of _Virginia_," said the vice-admiral, pithily,
though he extended a hand to, and smiled kindly on, the youth as the
latter passed him in compliance.
The sick man now succeeded, with a good deal of difficulty, in drawing a
valuable signet-ring from a finger.--This ring bore the Wychecombe arms,
engraved on it. It was without the bloody hand, however; for it was far
older than the order of baronets, having, as Wycherly well knew, been
given by one of the Plantagenet Dukes to an ancestor of the family,
during the French wars of Henry VI., and that, too, in commemoration of
some signal act of gallantry in the field.
"Wear this--noble fellow--honour to name," said Sir Wycherly. "_Must_ be
descended--all Wychecombes descended--him--"
"I thank you, Sir Wycherly, for this present, which I prize as it ought
to be prized," said Wycherly, every trace of any other feeling than that
of gratitude having vanished from his countenance. "I may have no claims
to your honours or money; but this ring I need not be ashamed to wear,
since it was bestowed on one who was as much _my_ ancestor, as he was
the ancestor of any Wychecombe in England."
"Legitimate?" cried Tom, a fierce feeling of resentment upsetting his
caution and cunning.
"Yes, sir, _legitimate_," answered Wycherly, turning to his
interrogator, with the calmness of one conscious of his own truth, and
with a glance of the eye that caused Tom to shrink back again into the
circle. "I need no _bar_, to enable me to use this seal, which, you may
perceive, Sir Gervaise Oakes, is a _fac simile_ of the one I ordinarily
wear, and which was transmitted to me from my direct ancestors."
The vice-admiral compared the seal on Wycherly's watch-chain with that
on the ring, and, the bearings being principally griffins, he was
enabled to see that one was the exact counterpart of the other. Sir
Reginald advanced a step, and when the admiral had satisfied himself, he
also took the two seals and compared them. As all the known branches of
the Wychecombes of Wychecombe, bore the same arms, viz., griffins for
Wychecombe, with three battering-rams quartered, for Wycherly,--he saw,
at once, that the young man habitually carried about his person, this
proof of a common origin. Sir Reginald knew very well that arms were
often assumed, as well as names, and the greater the obscurity of the
individual who took these liberties, the greater was his impunity; but
the seal was a very ancient one, and innovations on personal rights were
far less frequent a century since, than they are to-day. Then the
character and appearance of Wycherly put fraud out of the question, so
far as the young lieutenant himself was concerned. Although the elder
branch of the family, legitimately speaking, was reduced to the helpless
old man who was now stretched upon his death-bed, his own had been
extensive; and it well might be that some cadet of the Wychecombes of
Wychecombe-Regis, had strayed into the colonies and left descendants.
Secretly resolving to look more closely into these facts, he gravely
returned the seals, and intimated to Sir Gervaise that the more
important business before them had better proceed. On this hint, Atwood
resumed the pen, and the vice-admiral his duties.
"There want yet some 6 or £7000 to make up £20,000, Sir Wycherly, which
I understand is the sum you have in the funds. Whose name or names will
you have next inserted?"
"Rotherham--vicar--poor St. James--gone; yes--Mr.--Rotherham--vicar."
The clause was written, the sum of £1000 was inserted, and the whole was
read and approved.
"This still leaves us some £5000 more to deal with, my dear sir?"
A long pause succeeded, during which time Sir Wycherly was deliberating
what to do with the rest of his ready money. At length his wandering eye
rested on the pale features of Mrs. Dutton; and, while he had a sort of
liking, that proceeded from habit, for her husband, he remembered that
she had many causes for sorrow. With a feeling that was creditable to
his own heart, he uttered her name, and the sum of £2000. The clause was
written, accordingly, read and approved.
"We have still £3000 certainly, if not £4000," added Sir Gervaise.
"Milly--dear little--Milly--pretty Milly," stammered out the baronet,
affectionately.
"This must go into a codicil, Sir Gervaise," interrupted Atwood; "there
being already one legacy in the young lady's favour. Shall it be one,
two, three, or four thousand pounds, Sir Wycherly, in favour of Miss
Mildred, to whom you have already bequeathed £3000."
The sick man muttered the words "three thousand," after a short pause,
adding "codicil."
His wishes were complied with, and the whole was read and approved.
After this, Sir Gervaise inquired if the testator wished to make any
more devises. Sir Wycherly, who had in effect bequeathed, within a few
hundred pounds, all he had to bestow, bethought himself, for a few
moments, of the state of his affairs, and then he signified his
satisfaction with what had been done.
"As it is possible, Sir Wycherly, that you may have overlooked
something," said Sir Gervaise, "and it is better that nothing should
escheat to the crown, I will suggest the expediency of your making some
one residuary legatee."
The poor old man smiled an assent, and then he succeeded in muttering
the name of "Sir Reginald Wychecombe."
This clause, like all the others, was written, read, and approved. The
will was now completed, and preparations were made to read it carefully
over to the intended testator. In order that this might be done with
sufficient care for future objections, the two admirals and Atwood, who
were selected for the witnesses, each read the testament himself, in
order to say that nothing was laid before the testator but that which
was fairly contained in the instrument, and that nothing was omitted.
When all was ready, the will was audibly and slowly read to Sir
Wycherly, by the secretary, from the beginning to the end. The old man
listened with great attention; smiled when Mildred's name was mentioned;
and clearly expressed, by signs and words, his entire satisfaction when
all was ended. It remained only to place a pen in his hand, and to give
him such assistance as would enable him to affix his name twice; once to
the body of the instrument; and, when this was duly witnessed, then
again to the codicil. By this time, Tom Wychecombe thought that the
moment for interposing had arrived. He had been on thorns during the
whole proceeding, forming desperate resolutions to sustain the bold
fraud of his legitimacy, and thus take all the lands and heirlooms of
the estate, under the entail; still he well knew that a subordinate but
important question might arise, as between the validity of the two
wills, in connection with Sir Wycherly's competency to make the last. It
was material, therefore, in his view of the case, to enter a protest.
"Gentlemen," he said, advancing to the foot of the bed; "I call on you
all to observe the nature of this whole transaction. My poor, beloved,
but misled uncle, no longer ago than last night, was struck with a fit
of apoplexy, or something so very near it as to disqualify him to judge
in these matters; and here he is urged to make a will--"
"By whom, sir?" demanded Sir Gervaise, with a severity of tone that
induced the speaker to fall back a step.
"Why, sir, in my judgment, by all in the room. If not with their
tongues, at least with their eyes."
"And why should all in the room do this? Am I a legatee?--is Admiral
Bluewater to be a gainer by this will?--_can_ witnesses to a will be
legatees?"
"I do not wish to dispute the matter with you, Sir Gervaise Oakes; but I
solemnly protest against this irregular and most extraordinary manner of
making a will. Let all who hear me, remember this, and be ready to
testify to it when called on in a court of justice."
Here Sir Wycherly struggled to rise in the bed, in evident excitement,
gesticulating strongly to express his disgust, and his wish for his
nephew to withdraw. But the physicians endeavoured to pacify him, while
Atwood, with the paper spread on a port-folio, and a pen in readiness,
coolly proceeded to obtain the necessary signatures. Sir Wycherly's hand
trembled so much when it received the pen, that, for the moment, writing
was out of the question, and it became necessary to administer a
restorative in order to strengthen his nerves.
"Away--out of sight," muttered the excited baronet, leaving no doubt on
all present, that the uppermost feeling of the moment was the strong
desire to rid himself of the presence of the offensive object. "Sir
Reginald--little Milly--poor servants--brothers--all the rest, stay."
"Just be calming the mind, Sir Wycherly Wychecombe," put in Magrath,
"and ye'll be solacing the body by the same effort. When the mind is in
a state of exaltation, the nervous system is apt to feel the influence
of sympathy. By bringing the two in harmonious co-operation, the
testamentary devises will have none the less of validity, either in
reality or in appearances."
Sir Wycherly understood the surgeon, and he struggled for self-command.
He raised the pen, and succeeded in getting its point on the proper
place. Then his dim eye lighted, and shot a reproachful glance at Tom;
he smiled in a ghastly manner, looked towards the paper, passed a hand
across his brow, closed his eyes, and fell back on the pillow, utterly
unconscious of all that belonged to life, its interests, its duties, or
its feelings. In ten minutes, he ceased to breathe.
Thus died Sir Wycherly Wychecombe, after a long life, in which general
qualities of a very negative nature, had been somewhat relieved, by
kindness of feeling, a passive if not an active benevolence, and such a
discharge of his responsible duties as is apt to flow from an absence of
any qualities that are positively bad; as well as of many of material
account, that are affirmatively good.