A Ring of Rubies Page 4

did much to make up for the sore and absolutely certain fallof all my castles in the air.

  The next day, I learned from one of my brothers that Cousin GeoffreyRutherford had been found seated by his desk, quite dead. A policemanhad found him. He had seen that hall-door, which was practically neveroff its chain, a little ajar, and had gone in and found Cousin Geoffrey.

  The day but one after the news reached us, my mother got a letter fromCousin Geoffrey's lawyer.

  "As you are one of the nearest of kin of the deceased, it would beadvisable that you should be present at the reading of the will."

  "I think, Andrew," said my mother, handing this letter across the tableto my father, "that I will go, and take Rosamund with me; I am quitesure Geoffrey cannot have left me anything," she continued, a vivid pinkcoming into her cheek. "Indeed, I may add," she continued, "that underthe circumstances I should not _wish_ him to leave me anything, but itwould give me gratification to show him the slight respect of attendinghis funeral--and I own that it would also give me pleasure to see theold house and the furniture again."

  I had never heard my mother make such a long speech before, and I fullyexpected my father to interrupt it with a torrent of angry words. Eventhe boys turned pale as they listened to my mother.

  To our great astonishment her words were followed by half a moment ofabsolute silence. Then my father said in a quiet voice:--

  "You will please yourself, of course, Mary. I have not a word of adviceto give on this matter."

  We buried Cousin Geoffrey in Kensal Green. After the funeral was overwe all returned to the old house.

  When I say "we all," I include a very goodly company. I am almost surethat fifty people came home in mourning-coaches to Cousin Geoffrey'sdesolate house.

  It presented, however, anything but a desolate appearance on the day ofhis funeral. No one who saw that long train of mourning relatives couldhave said that Cousin Geoffrey had gone unsorrowed to his grave. Now,these sorrowing relatives wandered over his house, and after a coldcollation, provided by the lawyers out of some of Cousin Geoffrey'sriches, they assembled to hear the will read in the magnificentdrawing-room, where the Paul Veronese hung.

  Mr Gray was the name of Cousin Geoffrey's lawyer. He was a mostjudicious man, and extremely polite to all the relatives. Of course heknew the secret which they were most of them burning to find out, butnot by voice, gesture, or expression did he betray even an inkling ofthe truth. He was scrupulously polite to every one, and if he said anice thing to an excitable old lady on his right, he was careful to sayquite as nice a thing to an anxious-faced gentleman on his left.Nevertheless I felt sure that he could be irascible if he liked, and Isoon saw that his politeness was only skin-deep.

  My mother and I did not join the group who sat round an enormous centretable. My mother looked terribly pale and sad, and she would keep me byher side, and stay herself quite in the background, rather to thedisgust of some of the more distant relatives, who could not make outwho my mother was, nor what brought her there.

  At last Mr Gray cleared his throat, put on his glasses, and looked downat an imposing-looking parchment which lay on the table at his side.

  Instead of opening the parchment, however, as every one expected, hesuddenly took off his glasses again, and made a little speech to all therelatives.

  "I may as well premise," he said, "that my good friend who has passedaway was extremely eccentric."

  "Ah, yes, that he was, poor dear! Undoubtedly eccentric, but none theworse for that," murmured the red-faced old lady at Mr Gray's right.

  He turned and frowned at her.

  "I should feel obliged to you not to interrupt me, madam," he said.

  "Quite right, too," said the testy old man on the left.

  He got a deeper frown from the lawyer, who, after a moment's pause,resumed his speech.

  "Our friend was eccentric. I make this remark with a reason. I amabout to communicate some news which will astonish--and disappoint--every individual in this room."

  This short speech made a profound sensation. All the relatives beganmuttering, and I cannot say that I once heard poor Cousin Geoffreyspoken of as "dear."

  "I repeat for the third time," continued the lawyer, "the remarks I havealready made. Our friend Geoffrey Rutherford was extremely eccentric.He was not the least out of his mind, his brain was as sound, his reasonas clear as any man could desire. Nevertheless he was a very uncommoncharacter. He lived a queer, lonely, inhospitable life. As regardsmoney he was miserly. And yet, and yet," continued the lawyer, "I haveknown him generous--generous to a fault."

  "Perhaps you will oblige us by coming to the point, sir," hereinterrupted the testy old man.

  Mr Gray favoured him with a short, impatient glance.

  "I will," he said. "Yes, I will come to the point without furtherdelay. The point is the will. I am about now to speak of my friend'swill."

  Here all the company settled down into a hushed, expectant state. Theirinterest was so keen that the proverbial pin might have been heard todrop.

  "If Geoffrey Rutherford was more eccentric in one particular thananother," continued Mr Gray, clearing his voice, "it was on the subjectof wills. In the course of his long life he made several--to each ofthese wills he added codicils. The wills and the codicils were allpeculiar, but none, none so peculiar as the last. It is with regard tothe last will and testament of my esteemed friend that I am now going tospeak."

  "You will read us the will, perhaps, Mr Gray," interposed ananxious-looking relative.

  Mr Gray gave her a long glance.

  "Under the circumstances, no," he said. "My friend's last will is long,and full of technicalities. It is without a flaw anywhere; but to hearit read would be tedious, and you must excuse me, ladies and gentlemen,if I refuse to gratify what can only, at the present moment at least, beregarded as idle curiosity. For the will as it now stands affects noone present."

  "It is scarcely fair not to read it, however," said the red-faced lady."After a funeral the will is always read. This is, I think, ordained bylaw, and ought to be enforced."

  "I am sorry," repeated Mr Gray, taking no notice of the old lady'sremark, which made her frightfully irate. "It would be tedious to readthe will, so I decline to do so. I have, however, a letter from my lateclient, which embodies the principal provisions in it, and that I shallbe happy to read aloud for the benefit of every one present."

  Here Mr Gray cleared his throat, and putting on his glasses, began toread.

  Cousin Geoffrey's letter ran as follows:--

  "My dear Gray:

  "The more I think over our interview to-day the better pleased I am at the arrangement we have arrived at. You know how particular I am about my wills. I regard them from a serious and even an artistic point of view. I look upon a will as the crowning stone of a man's life, a crown to be placed on the shrine of his memory, a monument to hand down his name to the ages. My last will pleases me much. It is finished in all its details. It is, I may venture to say, truly original. I do not think it has a flaw in its construction, and, when carried into force, it will be a means of diffusing happiness and adding to the benefit of the human race.

  "As you are well aware, Gray, I am a rich man; the rich have many trials: they are the envied of the poor, and that in itself is disagreeable; they are also much worried by relations. I have never married; there is, literally, not a soul in the world belonging to me who bears my name, and yet I have relatives--many relatives. All my relations are kind, and solicitous for my welfare. When I am dead they will one and all express sorrow at my departure. There will be a goodly gathering of them at my funeral, and they will congregate afterwards at my house to hear my will read. I don't wish my will to be read. You, as my only trustee, are to take the necessary legal steps with regard to it, but I don't wish it to be read aloud to my relatives. As, however, they will be naturally curious to know in what way I dispose of my property, you may mentio
n to them, in any manner you think fit, the following particulars:

  "I have appointed in my will heirs to all my worldly estates, my property in lands and houses, in stocks and shares. The names of my heirs I have not thought fit to disclose; they may turn up at any time between the date of my death and five years after, and whenever they do appear on the scene, prepared to fulfil a condition which I have named, my property goes to them as appointed in my will.

  "If, five years having gone by, the true heirs do not come to claim the property, one-half of it is to go to different charities named at full length in my will, and the other half is to be divided in equal shares among all my blood relations.

  "Until the end of the five years, or until the true heirs appear, my property