The morning after the funeral Tristrem received a letter from Mrs.
Raritan, and a little later a small package by express. The letter was
not long, and its transcription is unnecessary. It was to the effect
that on maturer consideration Viola had decided that the engagement into
which she had entered was untenable. To this decision Mrs. Raritan felt
herself reluctantly obliged to concur. It was not that Mr. Varick was
one whom she would be unwilling to welcome as her daughter's husband. On
the contrary, he was in many respects precisely what she most desired.
But Viola was young; she felt that she had a vocation to which marriage
would be an obstacle, and in the circumstances Viola was the better
judge. In any event, Mr. Varick was requested to consider the decision
as irrevocable. Then followed a few words of sympathy and a line of
condolence expressive of Mrs. Raritan's regret that the breaking of the
engagement should occur at a time when Tristrem was in grievous
affliction.
In the package were the jewels.
Tristrem read the letter as though he were reading some accusation of
felony levelled at him in the public press. If it had been a meteor
which had fallen at his feet he could not have wondered more. Indeed, it
was surprise that he felt. It was not anger or indignation; they were
after-comers. For the moment he was merely bewildered. It seemed to him
incredible that such a thing could be. He read the letter again, and
even examined the post-mark. At first he was for starting at once for
Narragansett. If he could but see Viola! The excuse about a vocation was
nonsense. Had he not told her that if she insisted on going on the
stage, he would sit in the stalls and applaud. No, it was not that; it
was because--After all, it was his own fault; if he had been unable to
make himself beloved, why should the engagement continue? But had an
opportunity been given him? He had not had speech with her since that
evening when she had drawn his face to hers. No, it could not be that.
He bowed his head, and then Anger came and sat at his side. What had he
done to Destiny that he should be to it the play-thing that he was? But
she; she was more voracious even than Fate. No, it was damnable. Why
should she take his heart and torment it? Why, having given love, should
she take it away? He was contented enough until he saw her. Why had she
come to him as the one woman in the world, luring him on; yes, for she
had lured him on? Why had she made him love her as he could never love
again, and just when she placed her hand in his,--a mist, a phantom, a
reproach? Why had she done so? Why was the engagement untenable?
Untenable, indeed, why was it untenable? Why--why--why? And in the
increasing exasperation of the moment, Tristrem did a thing that, with
him, was unusual. He rang the bell, and bade the servant bring him
drink.
It was on the afternoon of that day that he learned the tenor of his
father's will. It affected him as a chill affects a man smitten with
fever. He accepted it as a matter of course. It was not even the last
drop; the cup was full as it stood. What was it to him that he had
missed being one of the richest men in New York in comparison to the
knowledge that even had he the mines of Ormuz and of Ind, the revenue
would be as useless to him as the hands of the dead? Was she to be
bought? Had she not taken herself away before the contents of the will
were reported? He might be able to call the world his own, and it would
avail him nothing.
The will left him strangely insensible, though, after all, one may
wonder whether winter is severer than autumn to a flower once dead.
But if the will affected Tristrem but little, it stirred Dirck Van
Norden to paroxysms of wrath. "He ought to have his ghost kicked," he
said, in confidential allusion to Erastus Varick. "It's a thing that
cries out to heaven. And don't you tell me, sir, that nothing can be
done."
The lawyer with whom he happened to be in consultation said there were
many things that could be done. Indeed, he was reassuringly fecund in
resources. In the first place, the will was holographic. That, of
course, mattered nothing; it only pointed a moral. Laymen should not
draw up their own wills. For that matter, even professionals should be
as wary of so doing as physicians are of doctoring themselves. And the
lawyer instanced legal luminaries, judges whose _obiter dicta_ and
opinions _in banco_ were cited and received with the greatest respect,
and yet through whose wills, drawn up, mark you, by their own skilled
hands, coaches and tandems had been driven full speed. In regard to the
will of the deceased there was this to be said, it would not hold water.
Chapter 360, Laws of 1860, declares that no person having a husband,
wife, child, or parent, shall by his or her last will and testament,
devise or bequeath to any benevolent, charitable, scientific, literary,
religious, or missionary society, association, or corporation, in trust
or otherwise, more than one-half part of his or her estate.
"But he devised the whole."
"Yes, so he did; but in devising it he overlooked that very wise law. My
opinion in the matter is this. When, may I ask, was your grandson born?"
"He was born on the 10th of June, 1859."
"Exactly. The late Mr. Varick determined, on the birth of your grandson,
that the property should go over. His reasons for so determining are
immaterial. Rufus K. Taintor, the ablest man, sir, that ever sat on the
bench or addressed it, drew up the will at that time in accordance with
instructions received. Some years later, Taintor died of apoplexy, and
he died, too, as you doubtless remember, after the delivery of that
famous speech in the Besalul divorce case. Well, sir, what I make of the
matter is this. The late Mr. Varick, relying on Taintor's ability, and
possessing possibly some smattering of law of his own, recopied the will
every time the fancy took him to make minor alterations in the general
distribution of the trust. Consequently his last will and testament,
having been made since the passage of the law of 1860, is nugatory and
void as to one-half the bequest, and your grandson may still come in for
a very pretty sum."
"He ought to have it all," said Mr. Van Norden, decidedly.
"I don't dispute that, sir, in the least--and my opinion is that he
will get it. This will is dated five days previous to Mr. Varick's
demise. Now, according to the law of 1848, Chapter 319, and, if I
remember rightly, Section 6, no such bequest as the deceased's is valid
in any will which shall not have been made and executed at least two
months before the death of the testator. That, sir, I consider an
extremely wise bit of legislation. The law of 1860, which I quoted,
vitiates the will as to one-half the bequest; the law of 1848 does away
with the will altogether. Practically speaking, your son-in-law might
just as well have died intestate. Though, between ourselves, if Mr.
Varick had not been ignorant of these laws, and had not, in consequence
of his ignorance, made a disposition of certain private documents the
contents of which are easily guessed, your grandson would have merely a
_prima facie_ right to have the will set aside; for, if you remember,
these laws were passed only to provide for the possible interests of a
surviving husband, wife, or _child_."
He emphasized the last word, and, as his meaning grew clear to Mr. Van
Norden, that gentleman got very red in the face. He rang the bell.
"Thank you, sir," he said. "I shall be indebted if you will send me your
account. And I shall be particularly indebted if you will send it at
your very earliest convenience. Henry, get this--this--get this
gentleman his hat and see him to the street."
Unfortunately for those that practise, there are a great many more
lawyers in New York than one. And before the last will and testament of
Erastus Varick came up for probate, Mr. Van Norden experienced slight
difficulty in retaining another attorney to defend Tristrem's interests.
The matter, of course, was set down for a hearing, and came up on the
calendar three months later.
Of the result of that hearing the reader has been already informed, and
then it was that Tristrem was taxed with old-world folly.