There was an unbroken silence in the room.
‘Uncle Belassis,’ said Tor, courteously and coldly, ‘I believe it is your place, as executor and legal adviser of our late father, Philip Debenham, and as guardian of my sister during her minority, to read the will now in your possession, and any other documents you may have, which bear upon the present question.’
He pulled forward, and placed at the head of the table, a heavy leather-covered chair, and Mr. Belassis came forward, with all the dignity he could assume, and sat down facing the whole company. He placed his papers upon the table, and tried to cover his nervous embarrassment by a pompous air of importance, which was peculiarly difficult for him to assume in Miss Marjory’s presence.
Maud signed to Tor to come and sit beside her. She was quite able to stand alone, but she felt as if her brother was in himself a tower of strength, and she liked to feel him near.
Mr. Belassis unfolded his document, and, after a few preliminary remarks, in which he spoke much of his dearly beloved and honoured friend and brother, Philip Debenham, and his most dear niece, towards whom he had always felt like a father, and played, as far as was permitted him, a father’s part, he proceeded to read such portion of the late Philip Debenham’s will as referred to the inheritance of his daughter.
Everyone present was perfectly aware of the condition imposed, before the money which had been his wife’s could pass to his daughter; but yet, when the words were really read, which willed away two thirds of a large fortune from his own child to his wife’s nephew, simply because she might refuse to become his wife, a murmur of mingled distrust and indignation seemed to go round the assembled company; and, in the silence that followed, Mrs. Lorraine’s quiet voice was distinctly heard, saying with distressful earnestness:
‘My poor, dear, loving brother never, never could have made such a will! He loved his children too well. He was too noble, too good, too just! Oh, there is something very, very wrong in it all!’
‘Silence, Olive! for shame!’ interposed Mrs. Belassis sternly. ‘You forget yourself strangely.’
Tor’s eyes flashed a look at Mrs. Belassis, which it was perhaps as well for her peace of mind that she did not see. He rose, and crossed over towards where the two sisters were sitting.
‘Pardon me, Mrs. Belassis,’ he said; ‘but so long as Mrs. Lorraine honours me by her presence in my house, it is my place to shield her from insult. She has full liberty to speak her mind freely on this and all other subjects. No one in the world has the right to bid her be silent, least of all in my house. Aunt Olive, I think Maud would like to have you beside her. Let me give you my arm across the room.’