A RASH COURTSHIP.
Finally, old Mr. Alvord, very perceptibly approaching his end, one day rode out with Margaret behind his span of fine horses, with which, and a nice double wagon, he had, among other luxuries, provided himself in his dotage, and regarding which the neighbors said he was becoming foolishly extravagant. But they little understood how much the quiet, saving old man was worth. He had been accustomed to drive his own horses, but of late was getting weak, and so transformed his "hired man" into a driver that day.
John Holt was a faithful, honest man, who had lived with Mr. Alvord for nearly twenty years, and was intrusted with everything. Mr. Alvord considered him one of the family; and although he always paid John for his services quite liberally, so that John had considerable money out at interest, yet he intended to remember him in his will to the extent of a thousand dollars, and on that day was, therefore, not at all private in what he said to Margaret. John heard most of it, and particularly remembered what Mr. Alvord said in regard to the legacy to him. He told Margaret how much he was worth,—a sum which quite astonished her,—and consulted with her in regard to what he should leave each of the children, to some of whom he proposed to leave but comparatively a small amount; but in each case Margaret urged him to leave more. He had done much for them all, but she was willing, in her generous nature, that he should make such legacies, and leave the remainder of his property to her and her children. To Floramond he had determined, he said, to leave one fourth; to divide another fourth between the other four; and to give to Margaret and her children half, imposing upon her the payment of a thousand dollars to John, and the distribution of certain matters of personal property to a few friends he named; five hundred dollars to be kept at interest, and that given annually to an old, decrepid widow in the place, who had been a schoolmate with him in Vermont, and whose husband had died in Mr. Alvord's employ, after many years of service. This she was to have as long as she lived, and he told Margaret that day that he had for several years contributed a like sum to her support, and that he had told the widow that if she outlived him, he would provide as much for her in his will. These with other things John had heard Mr. Alvord say to Margaret, and also that he had once made another will in different terms, which was lodged with Floramond, and had been drawn by Squire Emerson, a crafty old lawyer, when Mr. Alvord was once stopping at Floramond's for a week or two. "But the last will always revokes a former one," he told Margaret; so that he guessed that he would leave that where it was. It was thought afterwards that Mr. Alvord had some fear that if he called on Floramond to deliver up the will it might lead to trouble. Floramond might fear that he was not to fare so well.
The next day Mr. Alvord and John drove off to an old friend of Mr. A.'s,—a sort of universal genius, who held multiplied petty offices, and withal was considerable of a lawyer. He drew a will after Mr. Alvord's dictation, and Mr. A. signed it; but there was nobody at home but the old scribe, save a very young girl in the kitchen; and as John was a legatee, the man advised Mr. A. that he could not properly be a witness,—so Mr. Alvord said he would find others to witness it; and on his way home stopped at a neighbor's, went in, and declared the document to be his last will, etc., in the presence of two persons, who subscribed it as witnesses. But John did not know this of a surety. He suspected the document had been properly declared. Mr. Alvord went home and showed the will to Margaret, and deposited it in a secret place among his drawers, telling her where. "Now," said he, "if the house should catch a-fire, you run for this will the first thing, for I can't bear the bother of making another."
Mr. Alvord lived on a year more. Meanwhile the people who had signed the will as witnesses had "sold out," and followed a son to California; but neither old Mr. Alvord nor Margaret thought of them then in connection with the will.
By and by Mr. A.'s "time" came, and with all his adopted children about him, he, after giving them his parting blessing, dropped away quietly into the arms of death. Floramond took upon himself the management of the funeral, which for that place was made somewhat extraordinary, and the plain old Mr. Alvord went to his grave with a pomp and show which he certainly would not have approved could he have foreseen it. After the funeral the children gathered at the house, and Floramond told them that he had, somewhere among his papers, a document which Mr. Alvord had given him, sealed up, and which he said was his will. He did not know its contents, he said, but would like to have a time appointed when they could all be there and hear it read. Margaret said nothing, for she hardly comprehended matters, so great and real was her grief over the death of Mr. Alvord; and a time was appointed, one week from that day, for them all to convene and hear the will read.
After they had all left, Margaret bethought her of what Mr. Alvord had said a year before about a former will, and went to look for the will which Mr. Alvord had given into her keeping, but it was not to be found! Where was it gone? She remembered to have seen it several times since its deposit in the drawer, when looking there for other things; but she could not convince herself whether or not she had seen it within some months. She talked with John about it, and John told her of what Mr. Alvord had done that day he rode to the old clerk's with him; and she rode over to the clerk's to consult him, but he said he knew nothing about the witnessing,—that the will must have been properly witnessed to be valid; and he said, too, that perhaps Mr. Alvord had altered his mind,—had destroyed the will without letting her know it; that the will, as drawn, revoked all former wills, and that if the existence of this latter will could be proved, it would set aside whatever will Floramond had had, but that it would be impossible, in the present state of things, to prove the existence of the lost will,—that if anybody had stolen it away, that fact could never probably be discovered. The conclusion of Margaret, after talking with this man, was to await and see what Floramond would bring.
The day came, and with it Floramond, with the will done up in a once white paper, but which time had turned brown, and strongly sealed. The seals Floramond broke before them all, drew forth the document, and handed it to one of his brothers, saying, "You read it out for us. You can read the old man's writing better than I."
The brother took it, opened it, and said,—