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For myself, I can only think it must be about something connected with the estate. What else can it be?" "I suppose I can see him, Tynn?" "I'll ask, sir. He refuses visitors in his room, but I dare say he'll admit you." Lionel came to Mr. Bitterworth in the drawing-room. "My uncle will see you," he said, after greetings had passed.
West, Jan, Mr. Bitterworth, and Sir Rufus Hautley they thought how Mrs. Verner had changed, and how ill she looked; not that her florid complexion was any paler. She had, indeed, changed since the news of John Massingbird's death; and some of them believed that she would not be very long after Mr. Verner. They had assembled there for the purpose of hearing the will read. The desk of Mr.
"He is the rightful heir as well as the fit one, Matiss," added Mr. Bitterworth, leaning over the railings of the desk, while the lawyer was hastily putting his papers in order, preparatory to leaving them, placing some aside on the desk, and locking up others. "What was the cause of his willing it away from Lionel Verner?" "It's more than I can tell. He gave no clue whatever to his motive.
"I do not fully understand you, Lionel. You appear to imply that according to your belief no one has touched the codicil. How, then, can it have got out of the desk?" "There is only one solution. It was suggested by Mr. Bitterworth; and, though I refused credence to it when he spoke, it has since been gaining upon my mind.
"If Lionel were unworthy," with a stress upon the "were," "you might have left it to Jan," spoke Mr. Bitterworth. "Lady Verner has thrown too much estrangement between Jan and me. No. I would rather even a Massingbird had it than Jan." "If Lionel were unworthy, I said," resumed Mr. Bitterworth. "I cannot believe he is. How has he proved himself so? What has he done?" Mr.
"Bitterworth," said he presently "when I made my will years ago, after my father's death, I appointed you one of the executors." "I know it," replied Mr. Bitterworth. "I was associated as you gave me to understand with Sir Rufus Hautley." "Ay. After the boy came of age," and Mr. Bitterworth knew that he alluded to Lionel "I added his name to those of Sir Rufus and yourself.
"Bury me quietly; bury me without show," had been his charge. And yet a show it was, that procession, if only from its length. Close to the coffin walked the heir, Lionel; Jan and Dr. West came next; Mr. Bitterworth and Sir Rufus Hautley. Other gentlemen were there, followers or pall-bearers; the tenants followed; the servants came last.
Bitterworth, with the Misses West, with Sir Edmund Hautley, with Lord Garle, with the Countess of Elmsley, with all that came in his way. Next he looked round upon a poorer class; and the first hand taken in his was Robin Frost's. By and by he encountered Jan. "Well, Jan, old fellow!" said he, his affection shining out in his earnest, dark-blue eyes, "I am glad to be with you again.
Also I would tell you that I made the change of my own free act and judgment, unbiassed by any one, and that I did not make it without ample cause. The estate is not left to Lionel Verner, but to Frederick Massingbird." Mr. Bitterworth had small round eyes, but they opened now to their utmost width. "What did you say?" he repeated, after a pause, like a man out of breath.
Not one of them has ever asked me how my property was left; or has attempted, by the smallest word, to influence me in its disposal." "Then, what has influenced you? Why have you done it?" demanded Mr. Bitterworth, his voice becoming more subdued. To this question Mr. Verner did not immediately reply. He appeared not to have done with the defence of his wife and her sons. "Mrs.
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