CHAPTER XXIII.

LADY HALCOT'S WILL.

"IT is such rest to have you here," Gwendoline said repeatedly to her mother; and the sense of rest grew upon her hour by hour.

There was necessarily much to be done and much to be heard, mournful in kind; but Mrs. Halcombe took things into her own hands, sparing her child in every possible way. When the first excitement of their meeting was over, Gwendoline proved to be temporarily unwell enough, from all she had gone through, to need being spared.

Miss Withers did not appear at breakfast that morning, and an encounter between her and Mrs. Halcombe was thus delayed until near luncheon. When the said encounter took place, it was quiet, not to say prosaic in kind. Mrs. Halcombe said politely, "How do you do?" And, after a return of the utterance, "I hope you are well. This has been a very trying week for you all."

Miss Withers assented, with downcast eyes, and a murmur of "Thanks, yes,—exceedingly trying," and appeared anxious to get away as soon as possible.

During the next few days she studiously shunned both mother and daughter, and looked unhappy.

The funeral was conducted with heavy solemn grandeur, according to Halcot and Riversmouth traditions.

Afterward came the reading of the will; a singular document, with its weighty addenda in the shape of long codicils carefully undoing previous arrangements.

Mrs. Halcombe and Gwendoline were, of course, present; as also were Miss Withers, Mr. Rossiter, and Mr. Fosbrook. Mr. Selwyn had come down from London for the occasion. The nephew, known to be the heir-at-law, had made his appearance in time for the funeral; and there were also three or four distant relatives, elderly gentlemen, all more or less grave, embarrassed, and expectant. Gwendoline, treated by all as in a sense the daughter of the house, was thankful for the help of her mother's presence. Mrs. Halcombe quietly took the lead, and, by Mr. Selwyn's advice, acted as temporary hostess.

The Riversmouth estate, together with the title, descended as a matter of course to the said nephew, a gentlemanly young man, Philip Halcot by name. Most of the later alterations in the will were in respect of Lady Halcot's disposable property, inherited chiefly from her mother.

The large sums set apart for hospital and almshouses had been left untouched; as, too, were legacies to the amount of nearly twenty thousand pounds, left to numerous friends and distant relatives, including the three or four present on this occasion. Old servants and family retainers also were not forgotten. In place of four thousand pounds to Miss Withers, five hundred pounds were left to her, and five hundred to each of her two nieces and to Conrad.

Mrs. Halcombe found herself the possessor of thirteen thousand pounds, in addition to the yearly five hundred already given, both to be held in trust; the thirteen thousand pounds to revert to Gwendoline on her own death; the annual five hundred to become Gwendoline's on either her own or her husband's death, whichever was the survivor. To Gwendoline immediately was left the bulk of Lady Halcot's personal possessions,—jewellery, plate, books, pictures, many valuable knickknacks, and numerous articles of furniture.

"No inconsiderable legacy," the lawyer remarked in an undertone.

At the moment Gwendoline did not at all realize the worth of that which had fallen to her share.

"Mother, how good Lady Halcot has been to us! I am glad it is not more," she breathed to Mrs. Halcombe in an undertone, as the party present filed slowly out of the room, leaving only herself and her mother with Mr. Selwyn.

One pale-faced disappointed woman, passing out among the rest, could not have echoed these words.

"I am glad it is as much," Mr. Selwyn said, rising and coming nearer. "There was a time when I feared matters would have a different ending. Accept my sincere congratulations, Mrs. Halcombe. I only wish it were more."

"Don't wish that," Mrs. Halcombe answered, with a rather tremulous smile. "Gwen and I do not. This will be wealth to us."

"The jewels are a property in themselves," remarked Mr. Selwyn. "There are some, handed down from the Halcots, which Lady Halcot did not think she could rightly alienate from the estate. The larger proportion of her jewellery was, however, inherited from her mother; and the bulk of this is left to Miss Halcombe."

"Lady Halcot showed me some of her jewels once," said Gwendoline. "I thought them very pretty."

Mr. Selwyn could not resist a smile. He repeated the word "Pretty!" and stroked his chin. "Yes, undoubtedly. There are many more than you have seen, however. The value of the jewellery alone, which now belongs to you, amounts at the lowest estimate to several thousand pounds. They are a property in themselves," he repeated complacently. "The diamonds are particularly fine,—and there are good turquoises."

"I shall hardly know what to do with them," said Gwendoline.

"You will, of course, have them in a place of safety, my dear Miss Halcombe."

"I suppose I may keep out a brooch or two for use," said Gwendoline. "And I should like to have by me the ones that Lady Halcot used commonly. May I give something to Ruth,—a brooch and a bracelet, I mean?" She looked eagerly now at the lawyer.

"They are your own, and you are of age," said Mr. Selwyn. "But I would advise you not to act too hastily,—not to part with anything that you might regret later."

"Oh, I shall not regret. The best part of having more is to be able to give away," said Gwendoline. "Mother, there is a beautiful little ruby brooch which would just do for Ruth; she does so admire rubies. And I should like to take Honor a gold bracelet,—quite a plain one."

"There are the pictures also," observed Mr. Selwyn, after a rather dissatisfied pause; "not to speak of a very handsome supply of plate."

Gwendoline seemed rather bewildered. "The plate will be useful, of course," she said. "I know we are always short of spoons and forks. But the pictures,—we have so little room at home."

"The number of pictures is not great, but they are of very considerable value. Possibly you may not always remain in your present home," said Mr. Selwyn.

"No; I have had that in my mind," said Mrs. Halcombe. "We have so often wished to move, and have not felt Justified in going to the expense. But things will be different now. I am sure my husband will agree with me in thinking that the right time has come."

"A house in the country," suggested the lawyer, "within reasonable distance of London, so that the boys could run in and out by train. The pictures and furniture would prove no slight assistance in the event of such a move; until, of course, Miss Halcombe finds a home of her own."

"No fear of 'that' for a long while to come," Gwendoline answered, smiling and not blushing.

Somewhat later, when alone with her mother, Gwendoline asked, "Mother, did you notice Miss Withers' face while the will was being read?"

"Yes, I saw. I was sorry for her."

"I wish one could say something to her, mother."

"Something of what sort?"

"Why, to help her. She looks so unhappy."

"I don't quite know what could be said. We have our suspicions—more than suspicions—as to her share in the alterations which were made in the will. But it would hardly do to allude to those suspicions, Gwen."

"No, of course not. Only, if one could gain her confidence, mother!"

"If one could! There is not much hope, I am afraid. She rebuffs most decidedly all approaches on my part."

"And on mine too. Yes, that is the difficulty. I have hardly had a dozen words from her for days."

Nor was Gwendoline to have many more. Two hours later, a closed fly stood before the door, and some large boxes were carried out. Miss Withers presently entered the drawing-room, wearing her bonnet, and carrying a small travelling-bag. She seemed composed as usual, except that her under lip twitched nervously.

"I have come to say good-bye to your daughter, Mrs. Halcombe," the smooth voice said.

"Are you going already?" asked Gwendoline in surprise.

"There is no object in my remaining longer. I believe you and Mrs. Halcombe leave to-morrow?"

"The day after," Mrs. Halcombe answered, for she found much still to be arranged.

"There is no object in my remaining," Miss Withers said again, with the slight twitch of her lip. "I—I had a letter yesterday from one of my nieces, deciding me to hasten away."

"You will have tea before starting?" said Gwendoline kindly.

"Thanks,—no; I do not require anything, and the journey is not long."

"Perhaps some day you will write and tell me how you are getting on," said Gwendoline.

"Thanks. You are very good;" and Miss Withers extended a limp hand. "Good-bye."

"Good-bye. I hope you will have a pleasant journey," Gwendoline said, kindly still, though with an effort.

"Good-bye," added Mrs. Halcombe.

Miss Withers passed out of the room, and speedily drove away, dropping thus in a moment, as it were, out of Gwendoline's life.

Miss Withers went to reside in the same town with her nieces, bitter in spirit at her failure; and Lady Halcot's legacies sowed dissension between them and herself.