Stephen paused a moment, then raised his lids, and with a shake of his head and a sigh murmured an assent.
Mr. Hudsley allowed his keen eyes to rest on him for an instant, then slowly looked in the direction of Jack.
“A most careful search,” he repeated.
Jack, feeling that the remark was addressed to him, nodded and looked at the lawn again.
Mr. Hudsley cleared his throat, and opened the crackling parchment.
There was an intense silence, so intense that Stephen’s labored breathing could be heard as plainly as the rain on the windows.
In the same dry, hard voice Mr. Hudsley began to read. Clause by clause, wrapped in the beautiful legal jargon in which such documents are, for some inscrutable reasons, worded, no one understanding the import, but suddenly familiar words struck upon the ear. They were the servants’ legacies, and a mourning ring to Mr. Hudsley; then, in a stillness that was oppressive, there fell the words:
“To my nephew, Stephen Davenant, I will the whole and sole remainder of all I possess, be it in lands or money, houses or securities, all and of every kind of property, deducting only the afore-mentioned legacies.”
A thrill ran through the assemblage, every eye turned, as if magnetized, to the white, death-like face of the heir.
There he sat, the new squire, the owner of Hurst Leigh and the uncounted thousands of old Ralph Davenant, motionless, white, too benumbed to tremble.