“I—I cannot look at them without Guy,” said Godfrey, in confused, stammering accents.
“What is it?” said Guy. “About the funeral? Read it to me, I can listen.”
Godfrey slowly took the paper out of the square envelope, his hand shook, and he could not get his voice. Cuthbert took it from him, and read—
“It is my desire that I should be buried by my husband’s side in Ingleby churchyard, and that all members of my husband’s family, who are within reach, should be invited to attend. Also all my work-people. I wish Matthew Thompson, of Ingleby, to be the undertaker, and that everything should be done the same as at my husband’s funeral. I consider that in being laid in my grave at Waynflete, I should be putting a slight on my dear husband, which I am not willing to do. I have sometimes regretted that I gave up my married name, and I should wish it to be placed on my tombstone. Waynflete belongs to the one of my great-nephews I consider the least likely to follow the evil example of those who went before him, and I hope he will restore the family to its right position, and lead a sober and God-fearing life. Also that he will never consider himself above the business, to which he owes his education and his property. And I hope that those who come after me will conduct the business honestly, and never take a penny that is not fairly earned.
“And I wish it to be remembered that the recovery of Waynflete is owing to my having kept to one purpose all my life, and to my dear husband’s generosity and business abilities.
“I desire that my Will may be read at once on my decease, as I object to people’s minds being disturbed at such times by speculations. I have acted all my life on such judgment as the Almighty has chosen to give me, and though I have endeavoured to reflect on my past conduct, I cannot see that I have judged amiss.
“I forgive all my enemies. I forgive every one who made a mock of my family when I worked in the mill. I forgive my brother’s wife, who was a fine lady, and no good to him. I forgive Vendale, Vendale and Sons, who supplied me with worthless goods, and charged a dishonest price for them. I consider that I was wrong in objecting to my great-nephew Guy forgiving the enemies of his family, though I warn him not to gamble or lay bets with a person who comes of Maxwell blood. And I pray that my trespasses may be forgiven, as I forgive other peoples’.
“Margaret Waynflete.”
There was a silence as Cuthbert ceased. He himself felt how strange it was that he should be the reader of this manifesto. Godfrey sat on the foot of the bed, his face turned away and his broad shoulders heaving. Guy listened intently. He was the first to speak, in a quiet level tone.
“Now, let us look at the Will. Give it to me.”