“In terms as moving and as strong,As clear as ever fell from angel’s tongue,Besought, reproved, exhorted.”Harte.
“In terms as moving and as strong,As clear as ever fell from angel’s tongue,Besought, reproved, exhorted.”Harte.
“In terms as moving and as strong,
As clear as ever fell from angel’s tongue,
Besought, reproved, exhorted.”
Harte.
Signora Rivolta, in her present circumstances, felt it absolutely necessary to send for Markham, in order to avail herself of his advice as to what steps were now to be taken: for even if the Colonel had been a man of business and decision, he was almost, if not entirely, a stranger to the laws and manners of England.
Markham immediately obeyed the summons, and accompanied the family to Brigland. At his suggestion they first called upon the clergyman, Mr. Denver. From him Markham supposed that they should be able to gather the particulars of Mr. Martindale’s death better than from talkative and ignorant domestics, and less frigidly narrated than by a calculating scrivener. The young barrister also supposed that Mr. Denver’s thirst for knowledge might have put him into possession of all the particulars; and he knew that nothing so tended to the abatement of sorrow as a little ingenious circumstantiality. In these expectations Markham was not disappointed.
Mr. Denver received the party with great ceremony and formality; and though exceedingly sorry for the death of his good friend Mr. Martindale, he could not help being very much gratified by this mark of respect and consideration, nor could he well conceal his sense of the honor that was done him by this call. He addressed himself principally to Mr. Markham, having been previously acquainted with him,and regarding him as the mouth and ear of the party.
“Ah, sir, this is indeed a serious loss to us all. I little thought when poor Mr. Martindale sent for me last Monday morning, what was his object in wishing to see me.”
“Was he taken ill on Monday morning?” interrupted Mr. Markham.
“Oh dear, no sir; on Monday morning he was as well as you are at this moment. But it happened very curiously, that last Sunday Mr. Martindale came to church, and I preached a sermon on the uncertainty of human life. It is a sermon that I generally preach at this time of year. But Mr. Martindale, who was not much in the habit of attending church, had by some strange fatality heard this sermon twice before. Now, you know, sir,” continued Mr. Denver, addressing himself to Mr. Markham, “that our late friend was not much in the habit of taking notice of sermons. He used to say, in his odd manner, that one sermon was as good as another, for they all gave more good advice than any of the hearers followed. Well, sir,he sent for me, as I was saying, and as soon as I entered the room, (he was sitting in the bow-windowed drawing-room that overlooks the park,) he rose from the sofa, on which he usually sat, between the fire-place and window, and he took me by the hand, and without giving me time to speak, he drew a chair with his other hand, and almost pushed me into it, saying, ‘There, sit down, I want to talk to you.’ So I waited a few seconds, and then said, ‘I shall be exceedingly happy to attend to any commands which you may think fit to honor me with.’ Without making any direct answer to what I said, and as if he was not aware that I had spoken at all, he said, ‘How often have you preached that sermon which I heard yesterday?’ I smiled at the singularity of the question—Mr. Martindale used, you know, to ask very singular questions—and I said in answer, ‘I cannot tell exactly how often; but it has not been preached, I believe, oftener than any other.’—‘Perhaps not,’ he replied immediately; ‘but as I have heard it three times, it sounded to me yesterdayas a kind of warning, and I have a notion that I am not far from my end.’ I tried all I could to divert his mind from such gloomy thoughts, but nothing that I could say produced any effect whatever. I said to him, ‘I hope, sir, that you do not feel yourself unwell.’—‘Unwell!’ he replied, ‘to be sure I do. I am an old man; and old age is a disease that must end in death.’—‘But, sir,’ said I again, ‘though you may be advanced in years, yet you enjoy a tolerably good state of health; and there are many persons much older than you who enjoy a very great share of health and a good flow of spirits, and why then, sir, should you cherish such gloomy thoughts?’”
Here Mr. Denver paused for a moment, and his countenance changed to a still graver expression, when clasping his hands together, and then spreading them out, and lifting up his eyes, he resumed his narrative, saying,
“If I live to the age of Methuselah I shall never forget the impressive and energetic manner in which Mr. Martindale replied. Before I had well finished speaking, he hastily caughtup my words, and said, ‘Many persons older than me! Ay, sir, and there have been persons younger than me or you who on Monday morning have been in apparently perfect health, and on Saturday have been corpses. Now, sir, you preached to me yesterday, give me leave to preach to you to-day. I recommend to you for the future not to contradict on Monday what you have been preaching on the Sunday. Yesterday you exhorted me most solemnly to prepare for death, and to-day you are doing all in your power to divert my thoughts from the contemplation of mortality.’ There was a degree of seriousness in that rebuke which I felt to be irresistible; and I said no more. Our late friend then proceeded to mention several other matters of a worldly nature, and your name, sir, was very frequently mentioned; am I at liberty to go on with that part of my narrative?”
This interrogation was addressed to Markham, who immediately and almost quickly said, “By all means, Mr. Denver, by all means. Ibeg you would not hesitate about the use of my name.”
“Your fathers name also was mentioned,” said the clergyman.
Markham supposed, therefore, that some allusion had been made to his father’s embarrassments, and that on that account Mr. Denver felt some delicacy in speaking of the subject. As, however, Markham was well aware that nothing known to Mr. Denver could long be kept a secret, he gave full permission for any and every thing to be repeated which Mr. Martindale had said. On this leave, the rector of Brigland continued his narrative.
“Changing the subject from spiritual to temporal matters, Mr. Martindale then said, ‘Now, sir, I wish to make some alteration in my will in favor of two good friends of mine; and I am not willing to send for Mr. Price on this occasion, because I am desirous of making the alteration in his favor. He is a scrupulous man, and he would plague me with his modest refusals and opposition: so I shall execute it all myself;but I must have witnesses to the alteration, and you must find me some. The other friend whom I wish to put into my will, I believe you know. You dined with him here some time ago, soon after the trial in which my cousin was so unpleasantly engaged.’ I replied, ‘I know the gentleman, sir, to whom you allude, I remember him perfectly well.’ Mr. Martindale then proceeded, and as you wish to hear all the particulars, he said, ‘I have lately seen the young man very properly and suitably engaged in attending on his sick father; and from what I could learn before I left the town, I have reason to believe…’”
Here Mr. Denver hesitated, and Markham colored. The latter, however, had sufficient presence of mind to say, “I beg you will proceed; I am sure that Mr. Martindale could never have made any unhandsome or illiberal observations, or that indeed he could have said any thing which I could object to hear.”
“His observations,” continued Mr. Denver, “were not illiberal; but I felt some delicacy in alluding to the subject. Yet as you wish me tocontinue, I will add, that Mr. Martindale did say that he thought that there was something more than bodily illness, and that he had made such inquiries and had received such information as gave him a very high opinion of the parties concerned. He then said, that he was desirous of putting the name of Mr. Markham in his will. At his request, and totally unknown to Mr. Price, I fetched three gentlemen to witness the alteration of the will. When the gentlemen arrived, Mr. Martindale said to them, ‘Now, my good friends, I have requested the favor of your attendance to witness a transaction in which you have no interest; but I hope you will not on that account refuse to indulge an old man’s whims.’ For these were the same gentlemen who had witnessed the will which had been drawn out by Mr. Price. The gentlemen of course expressed their readiness to attend to the business on which they had been brought together; and then Mr. Martindale said to them, ‘Now, gentlemen, I am a capricious old man, and I wish to make some slight alteration in what I have called my last will and testament;but as the alteration concerns my worthy friend Price, I thought it best not to let him know any thing about the matter.’ He then produced the will, and read it over very distinctly; making as he went on many curious remarks, till when at last he reached the close of it he said, ‘Now I have here left Price residuary-legatee and executor; by which arrangement he will come into about ten or fifteen thousand pounds. But as there has been some change of circumstances which may render superfluous some of these legacies, and as Mr. Price does not reside in town, I have designed to make this alteration, namely, to put down his name as a legatee for twenty thousand, and to throw the burden of executorship and the chance of what may remain on my young friend, Horatio Markham of the Inner Temple.’”
Markham recollected, as who could not? the observation which had been made to him by Sir Andrew Featherstone concerning the trickery of Mr. Price, in keeping the old gentleman in ignorance of the real value and extent of his property, in order to take advantageof that ignorance for his own benefit. When, however, it appeared that Markham was put in that position, it excited in his mind emotions not easily suppressed. Not designing however to take undue advantage of this disposition, he commanded his feelings, and suffered Mr. Denver to proceed.
“The alteration of the will was then made, and duly signed and attested. The will was then committed to the care of Mr. Simpson, the banker, and the party who had witnessed it were requested to stay and dine at the cottage; and nobody could appear in better spirits or in better health than Martindale then did. He was quite as full of humor as ever; and he laughed and joked about the great house, for that was the name by which he always called the Abbey; and he several times said, ‘I think I must make another alteration in the will, and leave that foolish building for a public hospital, or for a madhouse; for it is only fit for crazy folks to inhabit.’ Then he said to us, ‘Have you any idea what that ridiculous mass of building cost me?’ And one said one sum,and another said another; and then the old gentleman laughed out and said, ‘Ay, ay, you may guess as long as you please, but you will never hit the mark, for upon my word I don’t know myself: for, in fact, before it was half finished, I was so much ashamed of my folly, I endeavoured to avoid knowing the amount of the expense.’ And thus quite in good-humor and high spirits did the old gentleman continue till it was past eleven o’clock, and even then he would hardly suffer us to take leave of him. The next morning I called to see him, and he was quite as well as ever, and did not take any notice of what had passed the day before; he only said, ‘Well, Mr. Denver, I am going down to Trimmerstone to inspect the repairs at the hall; but I will take care not to make such a fool’s hutch as that great house over the way.’ After I had been gone about an hour or more, a messenger came to fetch me again to go up to the cottage. Then I found Mr. Martindale extremely ill; a violent paralysis had seized him, and he was nearly speechless. It was with the utmost difficulty that he could be understood.Mr. Price was there, and was really as much affected as if it had been his own father. It was absolutely impossible to take any commands from Mr. Martindale himself, and Mr. Price thought it best to apprise his relations of the danger in which he was lying. For this purpose he despatched immediately a letter to Sir Andrew Featherstone, that he might gradually break the affair to them. But that letter had been scarcely sent off, when poor Mr. Martindale had a second attack, and in less than an hour he ceased to live. It is impossible for me to express what I felt upon this occasion. The language which he had used to me on the preceding day occurred so forcibly to my mind, it seemed as though it were quite prophetic.”
Mr. Denver finished his narration, which was attended to by Signora Rivolta not without some emotion. She felt much more deeply at this recital of her father’s decease than she had at the discovery of his existence. Clara too felt very sorry for her loss; for there had always been about her grandfather a peculiarly kind and gentle manner. He was an odd man,certainly; but if odd men have amiable qualities, their very oddness renders these good qualities more impressive and beautiful. Clara relied upon his judgment, and was delighted with the kindness of his heart. Clara was one who loved prodigies; and to her imaginative mind old Mr. Martindale was a prodigy of wisdom and benevolence. Clara might possess judgment as well as imagination; but she was not always aware of the precise line which divided them, and she sometimes mistook the promptings of the one for the decisions of the other.
The construction and arrangement of the external world is beautifully adapted to the varieties of minds which contemplate it, and the diversities of feelings which delight to be interested. If there be in any mind a love of the wonderful, there is abundant supply of it. If there be a delight in uniformity, there is also a uniformity precise beyond the utmost stretch of mathematical conception; and amidst human character there is also a delightful abundance of varied interest: for the sensibility which is most happy in tears, may also find sorrowswherewith to sympathise; the humor that is disposed to indulge itself in laughter, lacks not a liberal harvest of absurdities; the censorious, whose virtues consist in railing at others’ vices, never are at a loss for some vices to reprove; and those who like Clara Rivolta are delighted with romantically beautiful specimens of exalted moral character, may always find them.
It was then determined by the party that the gentlemen should proceed to the cottage, and take the necessary steps for arranging the funeral of their deceased friend, and that the ladies should remain at the house of Mr. Denver.
“Oh may we meet you in some happier clime,Some safer vale, beneath a genial sky.”Langhorne.
“Oh may we meet you in some happier clime,Some safer vale, beneath a genial sky.”Langhorne.
“Oh may we meet you in some happier clime,
Some safer vale, beneath a genial sky.”
Langhorne.
At the cottage the party found the Earl of Trimmerstone and Mr. Price in very close and serious conversation. They were discussing the arrangements for the funeral; but they seemed pleased at the addition to their party; and in the manner of Lord Trimmerstone towardsMarkham and Colonel Rivolta, there did not appear the slightest symptom of jealousy, or the least coolness or haughtiness.
After what Markham had heard of the will, and after comparing what Sir Andrew Featherstone had said with what had been related by Mr. Denver, he did not feel himself altogether at ease. For though he was very sure that Lord Trimmerstone was not aware of it, yet he could not feel perfectly composed, from the anticipation of what his lordship might say or think when he should know it, as very soon he must. On this occasion there were feelings in Markham’s mind by no means of an enviable nature. He unpleasantly and even painfully recollected that he had been always opposed to Lord Trimmerstone, and that without any deliberate wish or intention on his part; and he could not but imagine that a person of rank like Lord Trimmerstone, having also, as his lordship certainly had, exalted notions of the dignity and glory of title, must be greatly mortified at being brought into opposition with a person of no family. Markham’s first acquaintancewith the name and family of Martindale had been, as we have narrated, merely from professional employment. His acquaintance and intimacy with the old gentleman had been not his own seeking; and even had he been disposed to drop the acquaintance, it was never in his power to do so without manifest rudeness, and almost downright ingratitude. It was not Markham’s wish to be quoted as a pattern, or to be set up against a relative of his accidentally-acquired friend. But the most mortifying circumstance of all was the last act of old Mr. Martindale; for by the will recently made, there seemed ready to fix upon Markham an indelible stigma as a legacy-hunter. The real circumstances of the case he hardly knew; and he could not, on the information of Sir Andrew Featherstone, accuse Mr. Price, in order to exonerate himself. It was also very well known that though Mr. Price was confidential solicitor to Mr. Martindale, yet as the old gentleman was a kind of amateur lawyer, he was very fond of talking on legal subjects with Markham, and did very often quote hisopinion, to which he gave especial weight and importance.
It was also unpleasant and almost distressing to Markham to notice how very courteously Lord Trimmerstone behaved to him, and indeed always had he behaved so. It was very unfortunate, but there appeared no remedy for it, that with the best and purest intentions on the part of the young barrister, he should be brought into such awkward and almost unexplainable difficulties. For Markham was not only a man of strict integrity, but he had also a very high degree of moral susceptibility, and was excessively anxious to possess a high moral reputation: perhaps it was unfortunate for him that his regard to appearances was so great. His object might have been ultimately as well answered had he paid his undivided attention to the substance, leaving the shadow to take care of itself. Our readers will perceive that in what we have here said concerning our friend Markham, that he possessed a small share of vanity: as however he had many truly excellent qualities, that may be pardoned.
Now when Markham and his companions were thus cordially received, the whole party went into a consultation respecting the mode of the funeral; for as Mr. Price had said that there was no mention in the will of any desire on the part of the deceased as to funeral ceremony, the matter was open to discussion. In this consultation, Lord Trimmerstone and Mr. Markham were principally engaged; and it ended by resolving to have the funeral as plain as consistent with circumstances. This plainness was however composed of all the funereal practicabilities of Brigland.
Mr. Denver hearing that Mr. Price had spoken of the will, ventured to say that there existed a will of later date than that to which Mr. Price alluded. At the mention of this Mr. Price turned exceedingly pale; nor was his agitation much alleviated by hearing that one purpose of this new will was to increase the bequest designed for himself.
“Indeed! Mr. Denver,” said the man of law, trembling, “why that is very odd. I knowthat Mr. Martindale made several wills at different times, but this which I have was made so very recently, that there must be something very extraordinary to have occasioned it, and it is so strange that I should not have heard of it.”
Mr. Denver hoping to surprise agreeably said, “The making of the will to which I refer was concealed from you, Mr. Price, out of a feeling of delicacy, that Mr. Martindale might not hear from you those objections to an increased legacy, which he took it for granted you would make, if the alteration of the will were given to you to draw up. So Mr. Martindale said that he would make his own will, and then you might see after his decease how highly he valued your services.”
To this speech Mr. Price bowed, but no very strong symptoms of satisfaction were manifest in his countenance. Lord Trimmerstone immediately despatched a messenger for Mr. Simpson, requesting him to bring with him the document which had been committed to hiscare by the late Mr. Martindale. The gentleman presently obeyed the summons, and the will in question was produced.
Lord Trimmerstone cast his eye upon it, and hastily turned over, the very few folios which contained it, and with unaltered look said, “I see no mention made of funeral directions, and therefore we may proceed in our arrangements as before. Mr. Simpson, I will commit the will to your care; and after the funeral it may be read over, in the hearing of such of the parties concerned as may be present on the occasion.”
Mr. Simpson received the paper, bowed, and retired. And as it would require a pen far more practised than ours to give interest to the discussion which followed the retiring of this gentleman, we will proceed to the day of the funeral.
In opposition to the opinion and persuasions of Lord Trimmerstone, Signora Rivolta almost insisted on being present on the occasion. Clara followed her mother’s example, moved by the same considerations, and prompted bysimilar feelings. They both felt respect and love to the deceased; and the mother of Clara observed, “You will destroy the very character of funereal rites if you exclude those whose sorrow for the loss is greatest.”
“It is on that very account, madam,” replied Lord Trimmerstone, “that we wish to persuade you from attending at the interment. Why should you wish to render your regrets more poignant? and why should you encounter a scene which will be affliction to you, and beneficial to no one?”
“My lord, that which is matter of feeling is not subject for argument. I know that I shall feel deeply and painfully when I stand by my father’s grave; and I believe that my tears there will be joy to no one: but I also know that there may be many hours in life, in which to have shed these tears on such an occasion and at such a place will be to me a pleasure.”
Lord Trimmerstone did not exactly understand how that was to be; but he knew very well that it was not the fashion for females to attend funerals, and he thought it was veryabsurd in Signora Rivolta to persist in such a request. His lordship did not exactly know why it was not fashionable, and perhaps never thought of inquiring. It is the spirit and glory of fashion to follow models and obey laws, without knowing why or wherefore. The true reason of the unfashionableness of that which Signora Rivolta and her daughter persisted in doing is, that emotion and deep feeling are unfashionable. The Earl of Trimmerstone did not pursue the course of opposition, on finding that the ladies were sincere and earnest in their wish to pay this last tribute of respect to their departed relative.
The funeral service was read by Mr. Denver; who, notwithstanding he did all that he possibly could in order to render the service impressive by reading it solemnly, still from a habit of hastily performing the various parts of clerical duty, was absolutely unable to give the full effect to it. Signora Rivolta felt the defect of pathos, and the absence of genuine solemnity. This defect might perhaps contribute to keep her own feelings more calm and composed; orrather, by rendering her somewhat angry with the apparent indifference of the officiating clergyman, it tended to excite other emotions than merely those of grief and sorrow of heart.
When the last rites were over, it was necessary that the will should be read. If there was any one of the party apprehensive of disappointment, that person must have been Lord Trimmerstone. It certainly must have been mortifying to him to have witnessed the obstructions to his prospects of inheritance; first, in the discovery of his relative’s daughter and family, and next in the patronage and favoritism of that man whom he knew only as a person professionally employed against himself. It was mortifying also to him to think that this favorite should have become such from the very circumstance which his lordship had most reason to look back upon with shame and regret. It is, indeed, much to his lordship’s credit, that notwithstanding all these things he never manifested any symptoms of ill-humor or hostility towards the parties concerned, and never had recourse to any arts or contrivances whateverto flatter the old gentleman into good-humor. All this, however meritorious as it may sound in description, did not spring from any magnanimity on the part of Lord Trimmerstone, nor was it accompanied with any moral effort or reflective thought; it arose purely from a natural indolence of mind, and from a feeling that Mr. Martindale, who had manifested some zeal in procuring a higher title for his dependent relative, would have a natural desire to do what he could for the aggrandisement of the family that bore his own name.
The will was read. It commenced in the usual form. It gave various legacies to servants and humble friends, which need not be specified; it then went on to the distribution of larger and more important bequests; it gave the estate at Trimmerstone, and two other estates in the adjoining county, together with fifty thousand pounds, to the Earl of Trimmerstone. It assigned to Signora Rivolta an estate of two thousand a year; to Clara, a legacy of five thousand pounds; to his worthy and confidential solicitor, Mr. Price of Brigland, thesum of twenty thousand pounds; and to Horatio Markham, the residue: appointing the two last-named as his executors.
With this arrangement the Earl of Trimmerstone was perfectly satisfied; and had such a bequest come into his possession a few years before, he might have been delighted with it: but the time for his feeling strong emotions was past; his spirit was broken, and life had with him ceased to be holiday-time. Of the other legatees, Signora Rivolta, considering the circumstances of her birth, and recollecting the fears and prospects with which she had landed in England, was also perfectly satisfied. Markham, not knowing the extent of his legacy, but almost sorry that his name should have appeared at all in the document, felt embarrassed, and really did most heartily wish that what Sir Andrew Featherstone had told him might prove untrue: for the barrister, who would have delighted in opulence, as the result of professional diligence and skill, was not pleased at owing his wealth to a capricious stranger; and as it was his determination not to avail himselfof this bequest, should it prove unreasonably large, he was greatly disturbed at the idea that by giving or offering it to those whom he thought the right owners, he should seem to be playing a part of ostentatious heroism.
But, alas! for poor Mr. Price! His disappointment was severe indeed. Ever since he had had the management of Mr. Martindale’s property, he had been playing a deep game. It was his object to acquire a character with the old gentleman for strict and delicate honesty. He perceived that his employer was not fully aware of the value of his own property, and he saw that it was possible that advantage might be taken of this ignorance. But the crafty solicitor also knew that Mr. Martindale was a man of shrewd sense and great self-will; and therefore thought it most advisable so to manage and conduct the affairs, that if by any freak on the part of the rich man, there should be necessity for explanation and full statement, that explanation and that statement might be made without fear of disgrace and suspicion. By the habit of accuracy in his accounts, the lawyerbecame absolutely proud of the dexterity and scrupulosity with which he had attended to the affairs of his client; and oftentimes did he urge Mr. Martindale to pay more personal attention, and to inspect the accounts.
The old gentleman’s personal expenditure had been but trifling, compared with his actual income. Wishing, however, to be liberal, but still desirous of keeping that liberality within his income, he had made frequent and periodical inquiries of his lawyer as to the extent of the means; and the answers to these inquiries had always been very much within the mark. Very soon after Mr. Martindale had begun to employ Mr. Price as his confidential solicitor, the whim of will-making had seized the old gentleman; and in all the instructions which he had given to his lawyer for that purpose, Mr. Price had been uniformly named as executor and residuary-legatee. The policy of that gentleman had therefore been to keep Mr. Martindale as much in the dark as he conveniently could with respect to the real extent and value of his property. But unfortunatelyfor himself, the confidential solicitor overacted his part; and by causing his employer to apprehend that the residue of his property, after various proposed bequests, would be very much less than it really was, he had led the old gentleman to make the alteration above named.
Now it may seem that a legacy of twenty thousand pounds to a provincial solicitor was a bequest by no means to be despised or lamented. It may be said that this was better than nothing; but of that we have our doubts. Money is more or less, according to circumstances; and to ninety-nine persons out of a hundred, the disappointment of an expectation is equivalent to an actual loss. In the present case, however, Mr. Price was not merely disappointed, but he was absolutely embarrassed and perplexed: for he had made purchases of land at a great expense, and had left so large a portion of the purchase-money as a burden on his purchases, that the rent of his estates barely sufficed to pay the interest; and in some cases actually fell short of it. Add to this, that since the property in question had been bought,the change in its value had been by no means in favor of the purchaser. The legacy therefore which had been left him, magnificent as it might appear, compared with his apparent circumstances, was far below the necessities of his actual condition.
How the poor man felt under his disappointment, may perhaps be better imagined than described. It is probable, however, that he began to have some suspicion that there was some truth in the proverb which says, “Honesty is the best policy.”
“He heap’d up such an ample store,That av’rice could not sigh for more.”Smart.
“He heap’d up such an ample store,That av’rice could not sigh for more.”Smart.
“He heap’d up such an ample store,
That av’rice could not sigh for more.”
Smart.
The day after the funeral all parties concerned, except Markham, took their departure from Brigland. The Earl’s presence was absolutely necessary at Trimmerstone to inspect and direct the repairs at the hall. He took leave of Markham with much stronger expressions of regard than he had ever used before;for he now perceived, or thought that he had discovered, that the barrister had not been using the arts of a legacy-hunter. Never indeed had his lordship seen any such conduct on the part of Markham as might lead him to conclude unfavorably concerning him; but his lordship had taken up the common-place notion, that because the profession of law requires acuteness, therefore its professors must be sharpers.
Signora Rivolta trusted to Markham to manage that part of the business which related to her family, and at the entreaty of the Colonel returned directly to London. For it was the constant practice of the Colonel’s lady to yield ready obedience to her husband’s requests, knowing that the surest and most effectual mode of governing a blockhead is to let him have his own way as much as possible.
Markham and Mr. Price then met, for the purpose of transacting business, at the office of the latter. It has been already hinted that Markham had a suspicion of the foul play of the confidential solicitor. With this suspicion on his mind he therefore resolved to watch himvery narrowly, and to take especial care that now the last will was made, it should be faithfully and properly executed. When Markham entered the apartment destined to be the scene of their first consultation, he could hardly believe it possible that so plausible, plain-speaking a man as Mr. Price could be by any means a dishonest man, or a man of indirect practices. There was a recollection on the mind of the barrister of some slight emotion expressed by Mr. Price at the reading of the will, and also at the previous annunciation of its existence by Mr. Denver. But these emotions might spring from other sources than that of disappointed covetousness; and as Markham had not any idea of the necessities and perplexities of the solicitor, he thought that the legacy named in Mr. Martindale’s will was a very ample and satisfactory bequest. He did not however lay aside his suspicions, or relax in his vigilance of observation.
It was very natural that two persons who had both been intimate acquaintances of the deceased, and who had scarcely ever met before,should at a meeting of this nature first enter into a little talk concerning their departed friend. Mr. Price commenced by saying,
“This is a great loss, Mr. Markham. Our friend Mr. Martindale will be very much missed. The people here at Brigland were very much grieved when housekeeping was given up at the Abbey. The poor will have long cause to regret their benefactor.”
“I believe,” replied Markham, “that Mr. Martindale was a truly benevolent man, and will be no doubt much missed. My acquaintance with him has been comparatively short; but I had the highest opinion of his heart and understanding.”
“It is very strange,” said Mr. Price, “that he should have chosen that very singular mode of life. He had the means of living in much better style than he did. Though I must say that the Abbey was too magnificent a building even for his property.”
“Are you aware, Mr. Price, of the real value of the late Mr. Martindale’s property?”
To this question Mr. Price did not give a veryspeedy reply, but muttered rather indistinctly, and said in a very slip-shod tone of voice, “Why, I can’t say exactly, for it consists of various parts; some in land, some on mortgage, and some in the funds; and the price of land is now considerably less than it was some years ago. I really cannot venture to say; but, however, we shall probably ascertain that in the course of our executorship. I suppose you intend to accept the charge… but I fear you will find it a troublesome task. I have myself had so much to do with executorships, that I could almost find in my heart to decline it in the present instance; but I have too great a respect for the memory of my departed client.”
There was something in the tone of this last speech, which led Markham to apprehend that there might be some truth in the tale that he had heard from Sir Andrew Featherstone. Without therefore betraying his suspicions, he replied carelessly,
“Yes, I think I may as well act with you, for perhaps I may be the means of saving you some trouble. I also feel a great respect forthe memory of Mr. Martindale, though my acquaintance has been but short.”
“Certainly, certainly,” continued Mr. Price, “every body who knew Mr. Martindale must respect him. He was a man of very great kindness of heart, and of real benevolence of disposition.”
The confidential solicitor then hesitated and almost smiled, and put on one of those silly looks which people assume when they are about to ask what may perhaps be denied them. At last he said,
“I suppose it will be desirable to settle the business with the legatees as soon as possible. I always prefer despatch in matters of this kind. I think it does not look well to protract this sort of business.”
“Of course it does not,” replied Markham, “and I shall be most happy to afford you all the assistance in my power for the furtherance of your plans of despatch.”
“Sir, I thank you,” was Mr. Price’s answer; but his manner still manifested that something more remained to be said. Markham perceivedit, but most provokingly abstained from saying any thing which might tend to assist the confidential solicitor in the unfolding of his ideas, or the development of his schemes.
After a little more hesitation, Mr. Price proceeded: “There will perhaps be some little trouble and delay in arranging all the affairs; and I am afraid, Mr. Markham, that your legacy will be paid last.”
“Very likely,” replied Markham, “that is as it should be; indeed I had no reason to expect any legacy at all.”
“I think,” continued Mr. Price, “that you will find your legacy rather larger than you are now aware of; and notwithstanding all that was said by Mr. Denver, I should have no objection to change legacies with you.”
“Indeed, Mr. Price! Why surely you do not mean to say that my legacy is worth as much as twenty thousand pounds?”
Mr. Price looked very knowing and important, and said, “Now, Mr. Markham, I will deal candidly with you; I know that your share will amount to more than twenty thousand.If therefore you wish to get rid of all trouble, and quietly receive a handsome commutation, I can venture to say that I will give you thirty thousand pounds for your legacy, and I will take all the trouble of the business on my own hands.”
How far Markham was truly honest and conscientiously veracious in professing to be surprised at this development, we will leave casuists to determine. In order, however, to ascertain, as readily and distinctly as he could, the truth of the story told by Sir Andrew, he professed great astonishment, but declined the proffered commutation, saying with a smile,
“No, no, Mr. Price, I shall not let you off so easily as that; I must have a more tempting offer. You have said that you cannot exactly tell how much our late friend’s property amounts to: now, unless you had reason to suppose you should make a very good bargain indeed, you would not proffer so large a sum on a contingency. Come now, confess, do you not think that my legacy is really worth a great deal more than thirty thousand pounds? You maynot know the precise amount of Mr. Martindale’s property, but you cannot have had the management of it so many years without being able to form a tolerably correct judgment of it. You must know the value of his mortgages, and the amount of his funded property.”
Then looking more seriously, Markham went on: “Now tell me honestly, Mr. Price, is not the legacy in question really worth as much as one hundred thousand pounds? I know it is,” continued the barrister, conscious from the solicitor’s manner that Sir Andrew Featherstone’s story was not without foundation.
It then became necessary for Mr. Price to change his tone, and to look serious. “I will tell you honestly,” said he, “that your legacy is worth nearer two than one hundred thousand pounds.”
“But how is it that Mr. Martindale should have assigned to you the sum of twenty thousand pounds, as being more beneficial to you than this enormous residue? Was our friend so ignorant of the extent of his property as to make so great a mistake as this?”
Mr. Price was confounded: he was fairly detected; and very unpleasant indeed was it for him to stand thus convicted before another man of the law. The confidential solicitor was silenced for a moment or two; and when he recovered the power of speech, he did not so soon recover the power of clearly expressing himself; and if he had said, as twenty thousand Irishmen have been twenty thousand times accused of saying, “I am speechless,” he would not have been far from the truth.
A very fine opportunity was now presented to Markham of making a fine set speech, full of indignation and metaphors, after the manner of a sermon, or the last speech of the first, second, third, fourth, and fifth acts of a new comedy; but for many reasons he abstained. In the first place he was not partial to spouting, nor very dexterous in the management, or fertile in the invention of metaphors. In the second place, he knew that it would do no good, but rather harm; for if the heart of Mr. Price was not absolutely callous, the very fact of detection and disappointment would be quite sufficient tomake him feel, and to urge him to repent, if he were capable of penitence. All prating and prosing upon the subject would only have diverted his thoughts from the meanness of his own conduct to the quizzicality of the spouter. Markham merely said,
“Do you call that conduct honest, Mr. Price?”
The confidential solicitor turned away his face; but whether it were to conceal a rising blush or a falling tear, we cannot say: if however it were so, we think it a great pity that he should have concealed so great a curiosity as a blush or a tear on the cheek of an attorney.
Markham then said, “Well, sir, as matters now stand, it is impossible for me to avail myself of this error. I must inform Mr. Martindale’s relatives of the mistake, for it clearly is a mistake. This instrument does not express my late friend’s will.”
“But surely,” interrupted Mr. Price, “you will not think of exposing and betraying me?”
“I shall certainly not accuse you, sir; butif facts expose you, you have only yourself to thank for the exposure.”
Mr. Price was angry, as most people are when they are mortified; and he said, “Well, Mr. Markham, you must do as you please, but I think you excessively scrupulous.”
“Better so,” replied the barrister, “than the reverse.”
That reply was displeasing to the solicitor, and he rejoined, “Why, now, you cannot suppose that either Lord Trimmerstone or Signora Rivolta will take the property, if you offer it to them; and then the conclusion of the matter will be, that you will merely make a show of magnanimous integrity and disinterestedness, and come into a handsome fortune; so you will get rich at my expense, and your character will be raised by the depression of mine. Such conduct is mean and trumpery.”
“Let me request of you, sir,” replied Markham, “to confine your remarks within the bounds of temperance and good breeding, or you may tempt me to use the opportunitywhich you afford me of making such replies as may not be most agreeable to you. I cannot and will not take advantage of what I consider to be another’s wrong.”
Before Markham left Mr. Price, he was careful to take immediate steps towards putting the business in a proper train, to have the matter settled as soon as possible. The barrister then called on Mr. Denver to thank him for his attentions to the deceased. Scarcely was Markham seated when a note was brought to him from Mr. Price; in which note that gentleman expressed a wish to decline acting as executor. The note also intimated, with many circuitous, but intelligible phrases, that it would be exceedingly agreeable to have his legacy paid as soon as possible; and offers were made of all necessary assistance on the part of the late confidential attorney.
To make short work of Mr. Price, we may as well here inform our readers, that in a short time his legacy was paid to him, and the town of Brigland had a vacancy for a new solicitor.