STARTLING NEWS.
Three weeks after Ralph's departure to join his regiment Mrs. Conway
received a letter which gave her a great shook. It was from Mrs.
Withers, and was as follows:
"MY DEAR MRS. CONWAY: I have very sad news to tell you. An event
has happened which will, I know, be as afflicting to you as it has
been to us. Our dear friend Mr. Penfold, who but three weeks ago
was so bright and happy with us in London, has passed away
suddenly. Up to the day before yesterday he seemed in his usual
health; but yesterday morning he did not appear at breakfast, and
the servant on going up to his room, found him sitting in a chair
by his bedside dead. The bed had not been slept in, and it appears
as if before commencing to undress he had been seized with a
sudden faintness and had sunk into the chair and died without
being able to summon assistance.
"His death is a terrible shock to us, as it will be to you. My
husband and myself have long been aware that our dear friend
suffered from disease of the heart, and that the doctor he
consulted in London had told him that his death might take place
at any moment. At the same time, he had been so bright and
cheerful in London, as indeed with us he was at all times, that
his death comes almost with as great a surprise to us as if we had
not known that he was in danger. Mr. Tallboys, the solicitor of
Weymouth who managed Mr. Penfold's affairs, called here last
night. The funeral is to take place on Thursday, and had Ralph
been in England he said that he should have written to him to come
down to it, which he could have done in time had he started
immediately he received the letter announcing the event; but as he
is over in Ireland, of course nothing can be done.
"He said that had Ralph come he should have suggested that you
also should be present at the reading of the will, but that as
matters stand he did not think there was any occasion to trouble
you. I should tell you that Mr. Tallboys appeared a good deal
worried, and one of his reasons for calling was to ask my husband
whether he knew where Mr. Penfold was in the habit of keeping his
papers. It seems that upon the day after his return from London
Mr. Penfold called upon him and took away his will, saying that he
wanted to look over it, as he had two or three slight alterations
that he wanted to make, and he would bring it back in the course
of a day or two and get him to make the changes required. From
that time Mr. Penfold had not been in Weymouth, and, indeed, had
scarcely left the house except to come down here; for, as he said
to my husband, he did not feel quite himself, and supposed it was
a reaction after his late dissipations.
"Mr. Tallboys, who is one of the executors named in the will, had
searched for it in the afternoon among Mr. Penfold's papers; but
found that it and several other documents--leases and so on--of
importance were all missing. He had asked Miss Penfold if she knew
where her brother was in the habit of keeping important papers;
but she replied shortly that she knew nothing whatever of her
brother's business matters. He had, therefore, driven over to ask
my husband, knowing how intimate he had been with poor Herbert. He
knew, it seems, that Mr. Penfold had some secure place for such
papers, because he had one day spoken to him upon the subject,
saying it would be more prudent for him to leave the leases in the
strong-box in his office at Weymouth. But Herbert replied that
they were stowed away in a far safer place, and that he had not
the least fear in the world of their being stolen.
"Now, this is just what my husband knew also. Once when they were
chatting together Herbert mentioned that the house like many other
old mansions contained a secret chamber. He said: 'I can't tell
you where it is, Withers; for although it is never likely to be
used again, the knowledge of this hiding-place has been passed
down from generation to generation as a family secret. I gave a
solemn promise never to reveal it when I was first informed of its
existence; and although in these days there is no occasion to hide
priests or conspirators, I do not consider myself released from
the promise I gave. Possibly some day the hiding-place may prove
of value again. There may be a price set on the head of a Penfold,
who can tell? Anyhow it is likely to remain a secret as long as
the old house stands; and in the meantime I find it a useful place
for keeping things that I do not want lying about.' Mr. Tallboys
appeared very vexed at hearing what my husband said.
"'It is very strange.' he said, 'that sensible men will do such
foolish things. It is probable enough that Herbert Penfold has
placed this will in the hiding-place you speak of, and in that
case I foresee that we shall have no end of trouble. I know you
are both aware of the nature of Mr. Penfold's will, and you may be
sure that if those sisters of his also know of it--whether they do
or not I can't say--they will bitterly resent it. I know enough of
the family history to know that. It was evident by Miss Penfold's
answer to me to-day that either she does not know the secret of
this hiding-place--which is of course possible--or that if she
does know she does not mean to say. I should imagine myself that
she does know.
"'Had Herbert Penfold been of age when his father died it is
likely enough that he only as head of the family would have been
told by his father of its existence; but you see he was but a lad
at that time, while the Miss Penfolds were women, and were
therefore probably informed of the secret. It is very awkward,
extremely awkward. Of course the will may turn up between this and
the funeral; but if not I hardly know what steps had best be
taken. If those Penfold women have made up their minds that this
will shall not see the light they are likely to carry it through
to the end. My husband quite agreed with Mr. Tallboys about that,
and so do I. I have never been able to abide them, though, as my
husband says, they are good women in many respects, and always
ready to help in parish matters. Still I can't abide them, nor I
am sure have you any reason to do so; for when I and my husband
first came here we learned a good deal of the part they had played
in a certain matter, and that of course set me altogether against
them.
"Of course, my dear Mrs. Conway, I do not wish to alarm you about
the will; still you ought to know how things stand, and my husband
this morning asked me to tell you all there was to tell. I hope in
a few days to be able to write and give you better news. Things
may not be as they fear."
Mrs. Conway sat for a long time with this letter before her. She had
not read it straight through, but after glancing at the first few
lines that told of the death of Herbert Penfold she had laid it aside,
and it was a long time before she took it up again. He had been the
love of her youth; and although he had seemingly gone for so many
years out of her life, she knew that when she had found how he had all
this time watched over her and so delicately aided her, and that for
her sake he was going to make Ralph his heir, her old feeling had been
revived. Not that she had any thought that the past would ever return.
His letters indeed had shown that he regarded his life as approaching
its end; but since the receipt of that letter she had always thought
of him with a tender affection as one who might have been her husband
had not either evil fate or malice stepped in to prevent it.
The fortnight they had spent in London had brought them very close
together. He had assumed the footing of a brother, but she had felt
that pleasant and kind as he was to all the rest of the party it was
for her sake alone that this festivity had been arranged. They had had
but one talk together alone, and she had then said that she hoped the
expressions he had used in his letter to her with reference to his
health were not altogether justified, for he seemed so bright and
well. He had shaken his head quietly and said:
"It is just as well that you should know, Mary. I have seen my
physician since I came up to town, and I don't think it will last much
longer. A little time ago I did not wish it to last, now I should be
glad to go on until I can see my little scheme realized; but I am
quite sure that it is not to be. Anyhow I am ready to go when I am
summoned, and am happy in the thought that the few people I care for
are all in a fair way to be happy. Don't cry, dear. I don't want a
single cloud to hang over our memories of this time. I am happier than
I have ever been in my life, and I want you and all of them to be very
happy too. I have set my mind upon that, and if I see a cloud on your
face it will spoil it all."
Still in spite of this she had hoped the doctor might have taken too
gloomy a view of the case, and that Herbert Penfold's death might yet
be a distant event.
And now it was all over. Herbert Penfold was dead. The heart that had
beat so kindly for her was silenced forever. It was then a long time
before Mrs. Conway recovered sufficiently from her emotion to take up
the letter again. She did so with an air almost of indifference. She
had learned the news, and doubtless all this long epistle contained
many details of comparatively little interest. But as she read her air
of languid grief gave way to an expression of keen interest, and she
skimmed through the last page or two with anxious haste. Then she
reread it more slowly and carefully, and then throwing it on the table
stood up and walked up and down the little room.
So these women, who had as she believed ruined her life and Herbert's,
were now going to attack her son and rob him of his rights. They
should not do it if she could help it. Never! Mary Vernon had been a
high-spirited girl, and, although those who had only known her through
her widowhood would have taken her for a gentle and quiet woman, whose
thoughts were entirely wrapped up in her boy, the old spirit was alive
yet, as with head thrown back, and an angry flush on her cheeks, she
declared to herself that she would defend Ralph's rights to the last.
How or in what manner she did not ask; she only knew that those who
would defraud him were her old enemies.
Had it been otherwise the fact that they were Herbert's sisters would
have softened her toward them; now that fact only added to the
hostility she bore them. They, his nearest relations of blood, had
ruined his life; now they would defeat his dying wishes. It should not
be if she could help it. She would fight against it to the last day of
her life. There was of course nothing to be done yet. Nothing until
she heard again. Nothing until she knew that the discovery of the will
was given up as hopeless. Then it would be time for her to do
something.
The thought barely occurred to her that the loss of this will might
make material difference in her own circumstances, and that the
allowance Herbert Penfold had made her, and which he had doubtless
intended she should continue to receive, would cease. That was so
secondary a consideration that it at present gave her no trouble. It
was of Ralph she thought. Of Ralph and Herbert. Were the plans that
the latter had made--the plans that had given happiness to the last
year of the life of him who had known so little happiness--to be
shattered? This to her mind was even more than the loss that Ralph
would suffer.
"They may have destroyed the will," she said at last; "but if not I
will find it, if it takes me all my life to do so."
A week later two letters arrived. The one was from Mrs. Withers. The
will had not been found. Mr. Tallboys had searched in vain. Every
cabinet and drawer in the house had been ransacked. No signs whatever
had been found of the will.
"Mr. Tallboys is perfectly convinced that it must be hidden in some
altogether exceptional place. The will was not a bulky document, and
might have been stowed away in a comparatively small hiding-place,
such as a secret drawer in a cabinet; but the leases that are also
missing are bulky, and would take up so large a space that he is
convinced that had a secret hiding-place sufficiently large to hold
them existed in any of the articles of furniture he has searched he
should have discovered it.
"Of course, my dear Mrs. Conway, we feel this matter personally, as
our Mabel was as you know made joint-heiress with your Ralph of
Herbert's property. We cannot but feel, however, that the loss is
greater in your case than in ours. Mabel was never informed of
Herbert's intentions toward her, and although we should of course have
been glad to know that our child had such brilliant prospects, the
loss of them will not we may hope in any way affect her happiness. In
the case of your son it is different, and his prospects in life will
of course be seriously affected by the loss, and my husband begs me to
express to you his very deep regret at this.
"We have talked over your letter together, and while fully sharing
your indignation at the conduct of the Misses Penfold, hardly see that
anything can be done to discover the will. However, should you be able
to point out any manner in which a search for it can be carried on, we
shall be happy to do what we can to aid in the matter, as it is
clearly our duty to endeavor to obtain for Mabel the fortune Herbert
Penfold willed to her. Mr. Tallboys tells us that it is clear the
Misses Penfold have quite determined upon their line of conduct.
Whatever they may know they have declined altogether to aid him in
his search for the will, Miss Penfold saying, in reply to his request
that they would do so, that they had every reason to believe from what
their brother had let fall that the will was an unjust and iniquitous
one; that if Providence intended it should see the light it would see
it; but they at least would do nothing in the matter.
"He asked them plainly if they were aware of the existence of any
place in which it was likely that their brother had placed it. To this
Miss Penfold, who is, as she has always been, the spokesman of the two
sisters, said shortly, that she had never seen the will, that she
didn't want to see it, and that she did not know where her brother had
placed it; indeed, for aught she knew, he might have torn it up. As to
hiding-places, she knew of no hiding-place whose existence she could,
in accordance with the dictates of her conscience divulge. So that is
where we are at present, Mrs. Conway. I believe that Mr. Tallboys is
going to try and get a copy of the will that he has in his possession
admitted under the circumstances as proof of Herbert Penfold's
intentions. But he owned to us that he thought it was very doubtful
whether he should be able to do so, especially as Herbert had stated
to him that he intended to make alterations; and it would be quite
possible that a court might take the view that in the first place the
alterations might have been so extensive as to affect the whole
purport of the will, and in the second place that he might have come
to the conclusion that it would be easier to make the whole will
afresh, and so had destroyed the one he had by him."
Mrs. Conway laid down the letter, and after thinking for a time opened
the other, which was in a handwriting unknown to her. It began:
"DEAR MADAM: Mrs. Withers tells me that she has informed you of
the singular disappearance of the will of my late client, Mr.
Herbert Penfold. I beg to inform you that we shall not let this
matter rest, but shall apply to the court to allow the copy of
the will to be put in for probate; if that is refused, for
authorization to make a closer search of the Hall than we have
hitherto been able to do, supporting our demand with affidavits
made by the Rev. Mr. Withers and ourselves of our knowledge that,
the late Mr. Penfold was accustomed to keep documents in some
secret receptacle. In the second place, we are glad to inform you
that the annual sum paid by us into the Kentish bank to your
credit will not be affected by the loss of the will; for at the
time when that payment first commenced, Mr. Penfold signed a deed
making this payment a first charge on the rents of two of his
farms during your lifetime. This assignment was of a binding
character, and of course continues to hold good. We shall consider
it our duty to acquaint you from time to time with the course of
proceedings in the matter of the late Mr. Penfold's will."
Little as Mrs. Conway had thought of herself from the time when she
first heard that the will was missing, the news that her income would
remain unchanged delighted her. She had formed no plans for herself,
but had vaguely contemplated the necessity of giving up her house as
soon as it was decided that the will could not be found, selling her
furniture, and for the present taking a small lodging. She was glad
that there would be no occasion for this; but very much more glad that
she should be able now to make Ralph an allowance of seventy or eighty
pounds a year, which would make all the difference between his living
comfortably and being obliged to pinch himself in every way to subsist
upon his pay. It would also enable her to carry out without difficulty
any plans she might determine upon.
Upon the receipt of the letter announcing Mr. Penfold's death, she had
written to Ralph telling him of it, but saying nothing about Mr.
Tallboys' visit to the Withers, or his report that he was unable to
find the will. She now wrote to him relating the whole circumstances.
He had not previously known Mr. Penfold's intention to make him his
heir, being only told that he intended to push his way in life, and
had considered that the promise was carried out by his obtaining him a
commission and arranging some allowance. His mother was glad of this
now.
"Of course the loss of Mr. Penfold's will, my boy, will make a
difference to you, as there can be no doubt that he had made some
provisions in it for the regular payment of the allowance he had so
kindly promised you. This, unless the will is found, you will of
course lose. Having been a soldier's daughter, I know that to live
comfortably in the army it is necessary to have something beyond your
pay; but fortunately I can assist you a little. I have now one less to
feed and clothe, and no schooling expenses; and I have been
calculating things up, and find that I can allow you seventy-five
pounds a year without making any difference in the manner of my
living. You will be able to see that for yourself. You need,
therefore, feel no hesitation in accepting this allowance.
"It is not a large one; but I know it will make a very great
difference in your comfort, and it will be a great pleasure to me to
know that you will be able to enter into what amusements are going on
and not to look at every penny. It makes all the difference in the
world whether one has four and sixpence or nine shillings a day to
live upon. You wrote and told me of the handsome present Mr. Penfold
made you at parting. This, my boy, I should keep if I were you as a
reserve, only to be touched in case of unexpected difficulties or
needs. No one can ever say when such needs may occur. I hope you will
not pain me by writing to say you don't want this allowance, because
nothing you can say will alter my determination to pay that allowance
regularly every quarter into your agent's hands; and it will be, of
course, very much more pleasant to me to know that it is as much a
pleasure to you to be helped by me as it is to me to help you. I have
heard several times from Mrs. Withers; they are all well, and she
asked me to send their remembrances to you when I write. I do not give
up all hope that the will may be found one of these days, but it is
just as well that we should not build in the slightest upon it."
Ralph's reply came in due time, that is in about a fortnight
afterward; for Mrs. Conway's letter had first to go by coach to
London, and then a two days' journey by the mail to Liverpool, then by
the sailing packet across to Dublin, and then down to Cork by coach.
He had already written expressing his regret at the news of Mr.
Penfold's death.
"My dear mother," he began. "It is awfully good of you to talk about
making an allowance to me. After what you say, of course I cannot
think of refusing it, though I would do so if I thought the payment
would in the slightest way inconvenience you. But as you say that now
I am away it will make something like that sum difference in your
expenses, I must of course let you do as you like, and can only thank
you very heartily for it. But I could really have got on very well
without it. I fancy that a good many men in the regiment have nothing
but their pay, and as they manage very well there is no reason I could
not manage too.
"Of course in war times things are not kept up so expensively as they
were before, and lots of men get commissions who would not have done
so when the army was only half its present size, and was considered as
a gentlemanly profession instead of a real fighting machine. However,
as you say, it is a great deal more pleasant having nine shilling a
day to live on instead of four and sixpence.
"I am getting on capitally here. Of course there is a lot of drill,
and it is as much as I can do not to laugh sometimes, the sergeant,
who is a fierce little man, gets into such wild rages over our
blunders.
"I say our blunders, for of course Stapleton and I are drilled with
the recruits. However, I think that in another week I shall be over
that, and shall then begin to learn my work as an officer. They are a
jolly set of fellows here, always up to some fun or other. I always
thought when fellows got to be men they were rather serious, but it
seems to me that there is ever so much more fun here among them than
there was at school. Of course newcomers get worried a little just as
they do at school. I got off very well; because, you see, what with
school and the privateer I have learned to take things good
temperedly, and when fellows see that you are as ready for fun as they
are they soon give up bothering you.
"Stapleton has had a lot more trouble; because, you see, he will look
at things seriously. I think he is getting a little better now; but he
used to get quite mad at first, and of course that made fellows ever
so much worse. He would find his door screwed up when he went back
after mess; and as soon as they found that he was awfully particular
about his boots, they filled them all full of water one night. Then
some one got a ladder and threw a lot of crackers into his bedroom in
the middle of the night, and Stapleton came rushing down in his
night-shirt with his sword drawn, swearing he would kill somebody.
"Of course I have done all I can to get them to leave him alone, for
he is really a good fellow, and explained to them that he had never
been to school, or had a chance of learning to keep his temper. But he
is getting on now, and will, I think, soon be left alone. This has
been an awfully long letter, and there is only just enough candle left
for me to get into bed by. Anyhow mother, I am not a bit upset about
losing Mr. Penfold's allowance; so don't you worry yourself at all
about that."
Some weeks passed on. Mr. Tallboys wrote that he had failed to induce
the court to accept the copy of the will, the admission he was forced
to make that Mr. Penfold had intended to make an alteration in it
being fatal. He had, however, obtained an order authorizing him
thoroughly to search the house, and to take down any wainscotting, and
to pull up any floors that might appear likely to conceal a
hiding-place. A fortnight later he wrote again to announce his
failure.
"The Miss Penfolds," he said, "were so indignant that they left the
house altogether, and you may believe that we ransacked it from top to
bottom. I had four carpenters and two masons with me, and I think we
tapped every square foot of wall in the house, took down the
wainscotting wherever there was the slightest hollow sound, lifted
lots of the flooring, and even wrenched up several of the
hearthstones, but could find nothing whatever, except that there was a
staircase leading from behind the wainscotting in Mr. Penfold's room
to a door covered with ivy, and concealed from view by bushes to the
left of the house; but the ivy had evidently been undisturbed for
fifty years or so, this passage, even if known to Mr. Penfold, had
certainly not been used in his time.
"I truly regret, my dear madam, that the search should have been so
unsuccessful, and can only say, that all that could be done has been
done. That the will is concealed somewhere I have not a shadow of
doubt, unless, of course, it has been torn up before this. As to that
I give no opinion; and, indeed, as it is a matter in which women are
concerned, your judgment as to the probabilities is much more likely
to be correct than mine. As I expected, my business connection with
the family has come to an end. The Miss Penfolds have appointed
another agent, who has written to me requesting me to hand over all
papers connected with the property. This, of course, I shall do. I
need hardly say that in no case could I have consented to act for
those whom I consider to be unlawful possessors of the property. In
conclusion, I can only say that my services will at all times be at
your disposal."
Mrs. Conway was scarcely disappointed at the receipt of this letter,
for she had quite made up her mind that the will would not be found.
These women had clearly made up their minds to deprive Ralph and Mabel
of their rights, and unless they had felt perfectly satisfied that no
search would discover the hiding-place of the will, they would not
improbably have taken it, and either destroyed it or concealed it in
some fresh place where the searchers would never be likely to look for
it. She did not think it likely, therefore, that the hiding-place
would be discovered, and she felt assured that were it discovered it
would be found empty.
"Very well," she said, in a quiet, determined voice, as she laid down
the letter. "Mr. Tallboys has failed. Now, I shall take up the matter.
I dare say you think that you have won, Miss Penfold; that you are now
mistress beyond dispute of Herbert's property. You will see the battle
has only just begun. It will last, I can tell you, all your lives or
mine."
A week later an altogether unexpected event took place. When Mr. and
Mrs. Withers were at breakfast a letter arrived from Mr. Littleton,
now solicitor to the Miss Penfolds. Upon opening it it was found to
contain an offer upon the part of the Miss Penfolds to settle the sum
of a hundred a year for life upon Mabel, upon the condition only that
the allowance would be stopped upon her marriage, unless that marriage
received the approval, in writing, of the Miss Penfolds. The letter
was addressed to Mr. Withers, and after reading it through he passed
it to his wife without a word. She was too surprised to say anything
for a moment, especially as Mabel was in the room, and she laid the
letter beside her until breakfast was over and Mabel had gone out.
"Well, James, what do you think of it?" she asked.
"What do you think of it yourself?" he replied.
Mrs. Withers hesitated, and then said: "Well, James, it is a sort of
thing that requires so much thinking about that I have scarcely had
time to turn it over in my mind yet, especially with Mabel there
eating her breakfast opposite, and having no idea that this letter
contained anything of such importance to her. I would really rather
hear what you think about it." Mr. Withers remained silent, and she
went on: "Of course it would be a very nice thing for Mabel to have
such a provision for life."
A slight smile passed across Mr. Withers' face, and his wife saw that
that was not at all the way in which he looked at it.
"That is just like you men, James," she said a little pettishly. "You
ask us what we think about things when you have perfectly made up your
minds what you mean to do, whether we agree with you or not."
"I don't think that's often the case with us. Still I did want to see
whether the matter would have struck you at once in the same light in
which I see it, and I perceive that it has not."
"Well, James, let me hear your view of the matter. I dare say I shall
agree with you when you tell me what it is."
"Well, then, Amy," Mr. Withers said seriously, "it appears to me that
we cannot accept this offer for Mabel."
Mrs. Withers looked a little blank. The living was not a rich one, and
assured as they had been by Mr. Penfold that he intended to provide
for Mabel, they had not endeavored to lay by anything for her, and had
freely dispensed their surplus income among the sick and needy of the
parish. The disappearance of the will had disappointed their hopes,
and raised many anxious thoughts in Mrs. Withers' mind respecting
Mabel's future, and the offer contained in the letter had therefore
filled her with pleasure. But she greatly valued her husband's
judgment, and therefore only replied:
"Why, dear?"
"Well, you see, wife, we are both thoroughly agreed that these ladies
are depriving Mabel of the fortune Herbert Penfold left her. They are
concealing or have destroyed his will, and are at present in what we
may call fraudulent possession of his property. Now, I do not think
that under these circumstances we can accept a favor at their hands.
To do so would be practically to acquiesce in what we consider the
robbery of our child, and the acceptance would of course involve a
renewal of friendly relations with them; a thing which, believing as
we do that they are acting wickedly would be distasteful in the
extreme, not to say impossible."
"Of course you are right, dear," Mrs. Withers said, rising from her
seat and going over and kissing her husband tenderly. "I had not
thought of it in that light at all. In fact I had hardly thought about
it at all, except that it would be nice to see Mabel provided for."
"It would be nice, my dear. But we surely need not be anxious about
her. We may hope that she will make a happy marriage. We may hope too
that we may be spared long enough to make some provision for her, for,
of course, we must now curtail our expenses and lay by as much as we
can for her. Lastly, dear, we need not be anxious; because we trust
that God will provide for her should we not be enabled to do so. But
even were I sure that we should both be taken together, I would rather
leave her in His hands than accept money wrongfully obtained and
condone an abominable action. There is, too, another point from which
the matter should be looked at. You see this curious condition that
they propose, that the annuity shall be forfeited unless she marry
with their sanction. Why should they propose such a condition?"
"I am sure I don't know, James; for of course, we should never give
our sanction to her marriage unless we approved of her choice, and
surely the Miss Penfolds would not disapprove of a choice that we
approved of?"
"Well, they might, my dear. You know how bitterly they disliked Ralph
Conway, and how they resented his being at the Hall. It is quite
possible they may have had some idea of Herbert's views about him and
Mabel, and are determined that he shall not benefit through Mabel by
one penny of their brother's property; and this clause is specially
designed so that in case the two young people ever should come
together they may be able if not to stop it--at any rate to stop the
annuity. That is the only interpretation I can give to this
condition."
"Very likely that is so James. Really these women seem to get more
detestable every day."
Mr. Withers smiled at his wife's vehemence. "There is still another
reason why we cannot take the money. Ralph Conway has been as much
defrauded as Mabel, and his mother, as you see by her letters, is
determined not to sit down quietly under the wrong. What she means to
do I have not the slightest idea, nor do I think that there is the
most remote probability she will ever succeed in finding the will.
Tallboys appears to have made a most thorough search of the house, and
do what she will she cannot have any opportunity of searching as he
has done. Still she clearly has something on her mind. She intends to
make some attempt or other to discover the will, which, if found, will
benefit Mabel equally with her son. Therefore we cannot but regard her
as our friend and ally. Now, were we to accept the money for Mabel we
should in fact be acquiescing, not only in the wrong done to her but
in that done to Ralph. We should, in fact, be going over to the enemy.
We could not take their money and even tacitly connive in her efforts
to find the will."
"I agree with you entirely, James. It would be impossible; only I do
wish you had said all this before letting me be so foolish as to say
that I thought we ought to take it."
"You didn't say so, dear," Mr. Withers said smiling. "You only gave
expression to the first natural thought of a mother that it would be a
nice thing for Mabel. You had given the matter no further
consideration than that, and I was quite sure that as soon as you
thought the matter over you would see it in the same light that I do.
But I think that before we send off our reply we should put the matter
before Mabel herself. I have no doubt whatever what her answer will
be, but at the same time she ought to know of the offer which has been
made to her."