Miriam Monfort / A Novel

by Catherine A. Warfield

Mr. Gerald Stanbury had been especially invited to attend the reading of my father's will, by a polite note from Mr. Bainrothe, in which the interest that both bore in this testament was plainly set forth. With the exception of our excellent old neighbor and the two Mr. Bainrothes, the circle assembled for the solemn occasion was composed entirely of Mr. Monfort's household and was truly a funereal one. I wore my deep-mourning dress for the first time that day, and Mabel, similarly attired, sat beside me. Claude Bainrothe was alone on a distant sofa.

Evelyn assumed my father's chair, and wore, with the weeds customary to widows, a demeanor of great dignity and reserve suitable to the head of the family. Mr. Gerald Stanbury had a seat near mine, on which he sat uneasily, and Mrs. Austin, Franklin, and Morton, were ranged together stiffly in chairs placed against the wall, likewise attired in deep mourning. Mr. Bainrothe was seated near the study-table, looking unusually pale and subdued, from one of the drawers of which he had drawn forth the will, unlocking and locking it again with a key suspended to his guard-chain.

"This key was placed in my hand," he said, "during my friend's last illness, and, although he could not speak to me at the time, his expressive eye indicated its importance and to what drawer it belonged. This was before he was removed from the study in which he was stricken, dear friends, as you may all remember, on Christmas-morning, and which he never again reentered. From that day to this the key which I wear has not left my charge, nor been placed in the lock to which it belongs, and to the guardianship of which this will, as soon as made and legally attested, was probably committed. We will now, with your permission, break the seal that I see has been placed upon this document since I beheld it, the contents of which are already familiar to me." He then opened and read in a clear, monotonous voice my father's will and its provisions.

The property, as I knew already, was all mine by marriage contract, except such sums as my father had accumulated and set aside from his yearly income for his own purposes. With these he richly endowed Evelyn Erle, and comfortably the three servants or attendants, as he preferred to call them, who had followed him from England, and by their lives of fidelity and duty shown themselves worthy of his regard. Half of my estate was already in stocks of the United States Bank, and half loaned at interest on sound mortgages. This last was to be called in as speedily as possible and invested also in stocks of the above-mentioned bank, in that peculiar institution known as the Pennsylvania Bank, and still supposed to be under Mr. Biddle's superintendence. This was done, the testator said, to simplify his daughter's property, and render it more manageable to her hand, should she by her own will remain single, or by that of Providence be widowed, and he hoped in any case she would suffer it to remain in this shape as long as Mr. Biddle or Mr. Bainrothe lived.

All this I heard with satisfaction and even indifference, but the part that stung me almost to exasperation was reserved for the last. Mr. Bainrothe and Mr. Stanbury were named as executors conjointly with Evelyn Erie, in the last mentioned of whom all power over my actions was to vest until I should be of age, and in whose hands, as guardian, Mabel and her property were exclusively intrusted until that time should arrive; after that period her sisters were to act jointly, unless my marriage were made without consent of Evelyn, in which case Mabel was to be her charge alone.

No security was to be required of either executor, but, across Mr. Gerald Stanbury's name two lines in ink had been drawn with a wavering hand, as if for erasure.

I heard this last clause of the will with a beating, bounding, indignant heart. Evelyn, who so hated Claude Bainrothe, had us both completely in her power for the present, and might defer our marriage for years if it so pleased her. And Mabel, toward whom she did not disguise her indifference, was to be hers on this ground perhaps forever! Slavery for four of the best years of my life was entailed on me, and bondage forever on her, perhaps—my idol—my darling—mine—all mine by every right of man or God!

The injustice was too palpable. It was almost incomprehensible to me how he had been wrought upon to do these things—he, "a just man made perfect." All this flashed stunningly across my brain. Suddenly I threw my hand wildly to my head—the whirl of waters was in my ears; yet I struggled against the surging tide, and Claude Bainrothe's grasp upon my hand strengthened and revived me. I was roused from my apathy by hearing Mr. Gerald Stanbury's loud, sonorous voice speaking out clearly: "I decline to serve, Mr. Bainrothe, after that erasure. You understand that, of course. It was a farce to send for me to-day, tinder these circumstances."

"How could I know, my dear sir, that this erasure had been made?" was the soft and specious rejoinder. "It must have been done in the last few months. This will was drawn up in August last. I was ignorant of the whole subsequent proceeding, and at that time Mr. Monfort laid peculiar stress on your coincidence as executor. Has any thing occurred since that time to mar your good understanding?"

"Nothing of any consequence," said Mr. Stanbury, coldly—"nothing bearing on the esteem of man for man. Nevertheless, Mr. Monfort, as we all know, was a man easy to offend and difficult to appease, and I suppose" (he swallowed hard as he spoke) "he weighed old friendship and some good offices as nothing against his wounded self-love, and against the flatterers who beset him with their snares."