MR. SARGENT LABORS.
That large room in Guild Court, once so full of aged cheerfulness
and youthful hope, was now filled with an atmosphere of both moral
and spiritual perturbation. The first effect of her son's will upon
Mrs. Boxall was rage and indignation against Mr. Worboise, who, she
declared, must have falsified it. She would not believe that Richard
could have omitted her name, and put in that of his attorney. The
moment she heard the evil tidings, she rose and went for her bonnet,
with the full intention of giving "the rascal a bit of her mind." It
was all that her grand-daughter and Mr. Stopper could do to prevent
her. For some time she would yield no ear to their representations of
the bad consequences of such a proceeding. She did not care. If there
was justice to be had on the earth she would have it, if she went to
the Queen herself to get it. I half suspect that, though she gave in at
last, she did carry out her intention afterward without giving any one
the chance of preventing her. However that may be, the paroxysm of her
present rage passed off in tears, followed by gloomy fits, which were
diversified by outbreaks of temper against Lucy, although she spoke
of her as a poor dear orphan reduced to beggary by the wickedness and
greed of lawyers in general, who lived like cannibals upon the flesh
and blood of innocents. In vain would Lucy try to persuade her that
they were no worse now than they had been, reminding her that they were
even happier together before the expectation of more than plenty came
in to trouble them; beside her late imagination of wealth, her present
feeling was that of poverty, and to feel poor is surely the larger half
of being poor.
On Lucy my reader will easily believe that this change of prospect had
little effect. Her heart was too much occupied with a far more serious
affair to be moved about money. Had everything been right with Thomas,
I have no doubt she would have built many a castle of the things she
would do; but till Thomas was restored to her, by being brought to his
right mind, no one thing seemed more worth doing than another. Sadness
settled upon her face, her walk, her speech, her whole expression. But
she went about her work as before, and did what she could to keep her
sorrow from hurting others. The reality of the late growth of religious
feeling in her was severely tested; but it stood the test; for she
sought comfort in holding up her care to God; and what surer answer to
such prayer could there be, than that she had strength to do her work?
We are saved by hope, and Lucy's hope never died; or if it did wither
away under the dry blasts of her human judgment, the prayers that went
up for submission to His will soon returned in such dews as caused the
little flower once more to lift its head in the sun and wind. And often
as she could--not every day, because of her engagements with Miriam
Morgenstern--she went to Mr. Fuller's church, and I think I may say
that she never returned without what was worth going for. I do not say
that she could always tell what she had learned, but she came away with
fresh strength, and fresh resolution to do what might show itself to be
right. And the strength came chiefly from this, that she believed more
and more what the apostle Peter came to be so sure of before he died,
that "He careth for us." She believed that the power that made her a
living soul was not, could not be, indifferent to her sorrows, however
much she might have deserved them, still less indifferent because they
were for her good--a ready excuse for indifference with men--and if
only he cared that she suffered, if he knew that it was sad and hard
to bear, she could bear it without a word, almost without a thought of
restlessness. And then, why should she not hope for Thomas as well as
for herself? If we are to love our neighbor as ourself, surely we must
hope and pray for him as for ourself; and if Lucy found that she could
love Thomas at least as herself, for him she was in that very love
bound to pray and to hope as for herself.
Mr. Sargent was soon thoroughly acquainted with all Mrs. Boxall's
affairs. And he had so little hope of success in regard to the will,
that, when he found that she had no vouchers to produce for her own
little property placed in her son's hands, he resolved, before going
any further in a course which must irritate Mr. Worboise, to see
whether he could not secure that first. Indeed he was prepared, seeing
how ill matters looked for his clients, to offer to withdraw from the
contest, provided the old lady's rights were acknowledged. With this
view he called once more upon Mr. Worboise, who received him just as
graciously as before. A conversation something like this followed:
"Mrs. Boxall informs me, Mr. Worboise, that her son, at the time of his
death, was, and had been for many years, in possession of some property
of hers, amounting to somewhere between two and three thousand pounds.
The old lady is a very simple woman--"
"Is she?" interjected, rather than interrupted, Mr. Worboise, in a cold
parenthesis. Mr. Sargent went on.
"Indeed she does not know the amount exactly, but that could be easily
calculated from the interest he was in the habit of paying her."
"But whatever acknowledgment she holds for the money will render the
trouble unnecessary," said Mr. Worboise, who saw well enough to what
Mr. Sargent was coming.
"Unfortunately--it was very wrong of a man of business, or anybody,
indeed--her son never gave her any acknowledgment in writing."
"Oh!" said Mr. Worboise, with a smile, "then I don't exactly see what
can be done. It is very awkward."
"You can be easily satisfied of the truth of the statement."
"I am afraid not, Mr. Sargent."
"She is a straightforward old lady, and--"
"I have reason to doubt it. At all events, seeing that she considers
the whole of the property hers by right, an opinion in which you
sympathize with her--as her legal adviser, I mean--it will not be very
surprising if, from my point of view, I should be jealous of her making
a statement for the sake of securing a part of those _rights_. With
such temptation, and such an excuse, it is just possible--I've heard
of such a thing as evil that good might come, eh, Mr. Sargent?--even
if she were as straightforward as you think her. Let her produce her
vouchers, I say."
"I have no fear--at least I hope Mr. Stopper will be able to prove it.
There will be evidence enough of the interest paid."
"As interest, Mr. Sargent? I suspect it will turn out to be only an
annuity that the good fellow allowed her, notwithstanding the reasons
he must have had for omitting her name from his will."
"I confess this much to you, Mr. Worboise--that our cause is so far
from promising that I should advise Mrs. Boxall to be content with her
own, and push the case no further."
"Quite right, Mr. Sargent. The most prudent advice you can give her."
"You will then admit the debt, and let the good woman have her own?"
"Admit the debt by no means; but certainly let her have her own as soon
as she proves what is her own," answered Mr. Worboise, smiling.
"But I give you my word, Mr. Worboise," said Mr. Sargent, doing his
best to keep his temper, "that I believe the woman's statement to be
perfectly true."
"I believe you, Mr. Sargent, but I do not believe the woman," returned
Mr. Worboise, again smiling.
"But you know it will not matter much, because, coming into this
property as you do, you can hardly avoid making some provision for
those so nearly related to the testator, and who were dependent upon
him during his lifetime. You cannot leave the old lady to starve."
"It will be time enough to talk about that when my rights are
acknowledged. Till then I decline to entertain the question."
There was a something in Mr. Worboise's manner, and an irrepressible
flash of his eye, that all but convinced Mr. Sargent that there was
nothing not in the bond to be got from him. He therefore left him, and
started a new objection in opposing the probate of the will. He argued
the probability of all or one or other of the daughters surviving the
father--that is, not of their being yet alive, but of their having
outlived him. Now this question, though plain as the alphabet to those
who are acquainted with law, requires some explanation to those who are
not, numbering possibly the greater part of my readers.
The property would come to Mr. Worboise only in the case of all
those mentioned in the will dying before Mr. Boxall. A man can only
will that which is his own at the time of his death. If he died
before any of his family, Mr. Worboise had nothing to do with it. It
went after the survivor's death to _her_ heirs. Hence if either of
the daughters survived father and mother, if only for one provable
moment, the property would be hers, and would go to her heir, namely,
her grandmother. So it would in any case, had not Mr. Worboise been
mentioned, except Mrs. Richard Boxall had survived her husband and
family, in which case the money would have gone to her nearest of
kin. This alternative, however, was not started, for both sides had
an equal interest in opposing it--and indeed the probable decision
upon probabilities would have been that the wife would die first. The
whole affair then turned upon the question: whether it was more likely
that Richard Boxall or every one of his daughters died first; in which
question it must be remembered that there was nothing cumulative in the
three daughters. He was as likely to die before or to survive all three
as any one of them, except individual reasons could be shown in regard
to one daughter which did not exist in regard to another.
One more word is necessary. Mr. Sargent was not in good practice and
would scarcely have been able--I do not use the word _afforded_ because
I do not know what it means--to meet the various expenses of the plea.
But the very day he had become acquainted with the contents of the
will, he told Mr. Morgenstern of the peculiar position in which his
governess and her grandmother found themselves. Now Mr. Morgenstern was
not only rich--that is common; nor was he only aware that he was rich;
if that is not so common, it is not yet very uncommon; but he felt that
he had something to spare. Lucy was a great favorite with him; so was
Sargent. He could not but see that Sargent was fond of Lucy, and that
he was suffering from some measure of repulse. He therefore hoped,
if not to be of any material assistance to Lucy--for from Sargent's
own representation he could not see that the matter was a promising
one--at least to give the son of his old friend a chance of commending
himself to the lady by putting it in his power to plead her cause.
And conducted as Mr. Sargent conducted the affair, it did not put Mr.
Morgenstern to an amount of expense that cost him two thoughts; while
even if it had been serious, the pleasure with which his wife regarded
his generosity would have been to him reward enough.