“Find it! Of course it must be found! It's absurd to think the man destroyed one will before the other was drawn.”
“I agree with you,” said Philip Crawford.
“Joseph was very methodical in his habits, and, besides, I doubt if he would really have changed his will. I think he merely threatened it, to see if Florence persisted in keeping her engagement.”
This was a generous speech on the part of Philip Crawford. To be sure, generosity of speech couldn't affect the disposal of the estate. If no will were found, it must by law go to the brother, but none the less the hearty, whole-souled way in which he spoke of Miss Lloyd was greatly to his credit as a man.
“I think so, too,” agreed Mr. Porter. “As you know, I called on Mr. Joseph Crawford during the—the last evening of his life.”
The speaker paused, and indeed it must have been a sad remembrance that pictured itself to his mind.
“Did he then refer to the matter of the will?” asked Mr. Randolph, in gentle tones.
“He did. Little was said on the subject, but he told me that unless Florence consented to his wishes in the matter of her engagement to Mr. Hall, he would make a new will, leaving her only a small bequest.”
“In what manner did you respond, Mr. Porter?”
“I didn't presume to advise him definitely, but I urged him not to be too hard on the girl, and, at any rate, not to make a new will until he had thought it over more deliberately.”