“Thank the Lord!” exclaimed John Ralston from behind the lawyer, who was deaf.
Mrs. Ralston smiled a little, and avoided her son’s eyes. Hamilton Bright looked absolutely impassive.
“You all see what it is,” said Mr. Allen. “It is a large blue envelope, gummed without a seal, marked ‘Will,’ in a handwriting which may be that of the late Mr. Lauderdale, though I should not be prepared to swear to it, and dated ‘March’ of this year. It is reasonable to suppose that it contains a will made in that month, and therefore prior to the one of which we have knowledge. Mr. Lauderdale”—he turned to Alexander Senior—“and you, Mrs. Ralston—with your consent, I will open this document in your presence.”
“By all means—open it,” said Alexander Junior, with evident impatience.
“Certainly, certainly, Mr. Allen,” said his father. “That’s what we expect.”
Mrs. Ralston contented herself with nodding her assent, when the lawyer looked at her. He searched for a penknife in his pocket, found it, opened it, and with infinite care slit the envelope from end to end. After carefully shutting the knife, and returning it to his pocket again, he withdrew a thick, folded sheet of heavy foolscap. As he did so, a smaller piece of paper, folded only once, fluttered to the ground at his feet. It might have been a note of old Robert Lauderdale’s, expressing some particular last wish of such a nature as not to have found its proper place in a document of such importance as the will itself. The eyes of every one being intent upon the latter, as Mr. Allen opened it, no one paid any attention to the bit of paper.
Mr. Allen was old and formal, and he had no intention of bestowing a preliminary glance at the contents of the paper before reading it. He began at the beginning, for the first words proved it to be a will, and nothing else. It began, as many American wills do, with the words, “In the name of God. Amen.” Then followed the clause revoking all previous wills, each and every one of them; and then the other, relating to the payment of just debts and funeral expenses. Then Mr. Allen paused, and drew breath.
The tension in the atmosphere of the room was high, at that moment of supreme anxiety.
“ ‘It is my purpose,’ ” Mr. Allen read, “ ‘to so distribute the wealth which has accumulated in my hands as to distribute it amongst those of my fellow creatures who stand most directly in need of such help—’ ”
There was a general movement in the circle. Everybody started. Alexander Junior’s hands dropped by his sides, and his steel-trap mouth relaxed and opened.