“Don’t you take any notice,” she said, “but come and see her, whether you see him or not. He will go some day or other, that’s certain, in one of these fits.”
“Poor little Lucy!” Philip said.
“Yes, it is true, it will be sad for her,” said Mrs. Ford, not half sure of what she was saying; “but yet Lucy will have a great deal to be thankful for, whatever happens,” she added, as she again bade him good-night.
CHAPTER XV.
THE SIGNING OF THE WILL.
After this alarm, however, Mr. Trevor got better, and there was an interval of calm. Life resumed its usual routine, and all went on as before. During this interval, Frank St. Clair became Mr. Trevor’s constant visitor. He saw the old man almost every day, and there can be no doubt that he entertained and amused him much. Old Trevor even went so far as to talk to him about the will, that all-important document, which was the object of his existence—not, indeed, of its actual composition, but of its existence as a mysterious authority which was to guide the steps of his successors for years. They had a great many most interesting conversations about wills. Frank was not a great lawyer, but yet he could remember some cases which had made a noise in their day, and some which had kept families in great commotion and trouble without making much noise in the world; and he took a somewhat malicious pleasure in telling his new acquaintance alarming stories of wills that had been lost, then found again to the confusion of every rational arrangement; and of wills that had been suppressed, and of some which no one had paid any attention to, setting aside their stipulations entirely, almost before the testator was cold in his grave. This was very startling to old Trevor. He inquired into it with a wonderful look of anxiety on his face. There was one will, in particular, of which his informant told him, with malicious calm, in which there was question of a house which the testator had built for his daughter, and which he left to her under the condition that it should never be let or sold, but remain a home for her and her children forever. What had happened? the house had been let directly, the daughter not finding it convenient to live there, and it was now about to be sold. Yes, the will was perfectly sound, not contested by any one; had been proved in due form, and administered to, and all formalities fulfilled—except in this important particular of carrying it out. Old Trevor’s throat grew dry as he listened, the color went out of his face.
“But—but—but—” he said, “was it allowed—was it permitted? Why wasn’t it put a stop to? You must be making a mistake. Nobody can go against a will! A will! You forget what you’re saying—a will is part of the law.”
“Who was to put a stop to it?” said St. Clair, calmly, “Who was to interfere? There were several brothers and sisters, and none of them wanted the house to stand empty, though the father so willed it. Whose business was it to stand up for the will? There was no one to interfere.”
“That is the most wonderful thing I ever heard in my life, the most wonderful thing,” said the old man, stammering and stumbling. “I can not understand it. A will—and they paid no attention to it. I never heard of such a thing in my life.”
“Oh, I have heard of a great many such things,” said St. Clair, and he gave a little sketch—which, indeed, was interesting—of careful testaments set aside by the law, or made null by some trifling omission, or solemnly ignored by the very heirs they appointed. It was a cruel joke. Poor old Trevor did not get over it for a long time. He sat and thought of it all the rest of the day. Who was to interfere? who was to make sure that anybody would do as he had ordained—would take upon them the trouble of superintending all Lucy’s actions, and following out his code? He had Ford up when St. Clair left, and talked to him long on the subject, not betraying his fears, by cunningly endeavoring to pledge him, over and over, to the carrying out of his views. “You would not see my will neglected after I’m gone? If the others should be careless, or refuse the trouble, you’d always see justice done, Ford? I am sure I can trust in you whatever happens,” the old man said.
“The best thing to do is to get the will signed and sealed and delivered,” said Ford; “that is the first way of making it sure. So long as you are adding a little bit every day, you can never be certain. Yes, yes, you may trust in me, Mr. Trevor. I would never dare to go against a dead person’s will. I’d expect to be haunted every night of my life. You may trust in me; but I can’t answer for others. I have charge of half of the time, no more. I can’t answer for others— Lady Randolph will pay little attention to me.”