“Oh, I’m glad to hear it!” said she. “Perhaps, then, you might do it while we are at the funeral, day after to-morrow? We will be gone at least two hours.”
“Easily, ma’am,” said I, with my heart in my mouth at the idea of managing the matter so soon, and having the papers for Helen as soon as, in any sort of decency, Mrs. Markson would be likely to have the old will read.
For the rest of the day I was so absent-minded to everything except this business of Markson’s that my acquaintances remarked that, considering how long I had been gone, I didn’t seem very glad to see any one.
Finally I went to old Judge Bardlow, who was as true as steel, and told him the whole story, and he advised me to get the papers, and give them to him to examine. So, on the day of the funeral, I entered the house with a mallet and a mortizing chisel, and within fifteen minutes I had in my pocket the package Markson had put in the sill years before, and was hurrying to the judge’s office.
He informed me that Mrs. Markson’s lawyer, from the city, had called on him that very morning, and invited him to be present at the reading of the will in the afternoon, so he would be able to put things in proper shape at once.
I was more nervous all that day than I ever was in waiting to hear from an estimate. It was none of my business, to be sure; but I longed to see Mrs. Markson punished for the mischief which I and every one else believed she had done her husband; and I longed to see Helen, whom every one liked, triumph over her stepmother, who, still young and gay, was awfully jealous of Helen’s beauty and general attractiveness.
Finally the long day wore away, and an hour or two after the carriages returned from the funeral, the city lawyer called for the judge, and, at the judge’s suggestion, they both called for me.
We found Mrs. Markson and Helen, with some of Mrs. Markson’s relatives—Helen had not one in the world—in the parlor, Mrs. Markson looking extremely pretty in her neat-fitting suit of black, and Helen looking extremely disconsolate.
The judge, in a courtly, old-fashioned way, but with a good deal of heart for all that, expressed his sympathy for Helen, and I tried to say a kind word to her myself. To be sure, it was all praise of her father, whom I really respected very highly (aside from my having had my first contract from him), but she was large-hearted enough to like it all the better for that. I was still speaking to her when Mrs. Markson’s lawyer announced that he would read the last will and testament of the deceased; so, when she sat down on a sofa, I took a seat beside her.
The document was very brief. He left Helen the interest of twenty thousand dollars a year, the same to cease if she married; all the rest of the property he left to his wife. As the lawyer concluded, Helen’s face put on an expression of wonder and grief, succeeded by one of utter loneliness; while from Mrs. Markson’s eyes there flashed an exultant look that had so much of malignity in it that it made me understand the nature of Satan a great deal more clearly than any sermon ever made me do. Poor Helen tried to meet it with fearlessness and dignity, but she seemed to feel as if even her father had abandoned her, and she dropped her head and burst into tears.