"Spread yourselves, my friends, in such a way as to permit the testator to see you all," continued the vice-admiral, motioning with his hand to widen the circle around the bed, which had been contracted a little by curiosity and interest; "stand more this way, Lieutenant Wycherly Wychecombe, that the ladies may see and be seen; and you, too, Mr. Thomas Wychecombe, come further in front, where your uncle will observe you."
This speech pretty exactly reflected the workings of the speaker's mind. The idea that Wycherly was a natural child of the baronet's, notwithstanding the Virginian story, was uppermost in his thoughts; and, taking the supposed fact in connection with the young man's merit, he earnestly desired to obtain a legacy for him. As for Tom, he cared little whether his name appeared in the will or not. Justice was now substantially done, and the judge's property being sufficient for his wants, the present situation of the lately reputed heir excited but little sympathy. Nevertheless, Sir Gervaise thought it would be generous, under the circumstances, to remind the testator that such a being as Tom Wychecombe existed.
"Here is your nephew, Mr. Thomas, Sir Wycherly," he said; "is it your wish to let his name appear in your will?"
The sick man smiled coldly; but he moved his head, as much as to imply assent.
"'I give and bequeath to Thomas Wychecombe, the eldest reputed son of my late brother, Thomas, one of the Barons of His Majesty's Exchequer,'" read Atwood, when the clause was duly written; "'the sum of ——, in the five per cent. stocks of this kingdom.'"
"What sum will you have inserted, Sir Wycherly?" asked the vice-admiral.
"Fifty—fifty—pounds" said the testator, in a voice clearer and fuller than he had before used that day.
The necessary words were immediately inserted; the clause, as completed, was read again, and the approval was confirmed by a distinctly pronounced "yes." Tom started, but, as all the others maintained their self-command, the business of the moment did not the less proceed.
"Do you wish any more names introduced into your will, Sir Wycherly?" asked the vice-admiral. "You have bequeathed but—a-a-a—how much—hey! Atwood?—ay, ten and three are thirteen, and fifty pounds, make £13,180; and I hear you have £20,000 funded, besides loose cash, beyond a doubt."
"Ann Larder—Samuel Cork—Richard Bitts—David Brush—Phoebe Keys," said Sir Wycherly, slowly, giving time after each pause, for Atwood to write; naming his cook, butler, groom, valet or body-servant, and housekeeper, in the order they have been laid before the reader.