Neville, after such gracious civilities as his native breeding and foreign travel have taught him, came to business and requested me—to draw his will."
"La!" said Kate.
"I was a little startled, but hid it, and took his instructions. This done, I requested to see the title-deeds of his estates, with a view to describing them, and he went himself to the banker's for them, and placed them in my hands.
"I then promised to have the will ready in a week or ten days. But Mr. Neville, with many polite regrets for hurrying me, told me upon his honor he could give me but twenty-four hours. "After that, said he, 'it might be too late.'"
("Ah!" said Miss Peyton.)
"Determined to retain my new client, I set my clerks to work, and this very day was engrossed, signed, and witnessed, the last will and testament of George Neville, Esquire, of Neville's Court, in the county of Cumberland, and Leicester Square, London, where he hath a noble mansion.
"Now as to the general disposition of his lands, manorial rights, messuages, tenements, goods, chattels, etc., and his special legacies to divers ladies and gentlemen and domestic servants, these I will not reveal even to you.
"The paper I now produce is a copy of that particular bequest which I have decided to communicate to you in strict and sacred confidence."
And he handed her an extract from George Neville's will.
Miss Peyton then read what follows:—
"And I give and bequeath to Mistress Catherine Peyton of Peyton Hall in the said county of Cumberland in token of my respect and regard all that my freehold estate called Moulton Grange with the messuage or tenement standing and being thereon and the farm-yard buildings and appurtenances belonging thereto containing by estimation three hundred and seventy-six acres three roods and five perches be the same little more or less to hold to her the said Catherine Peyton her heirs and assigns for ever."
The legatee laid down the paper, and leaned her head softly on her fair hand, and her eyes explored vacancy.
"What means all this?" said she, aloud, but to herself.
Mr. Houseman undertook the office of interpreter. "Means? why that he has left you one of the snuggest estates in the county. 'Tis not quite so large as Bolton; but lies sunnier, and the land richer. Well, mistress, was I right, are you not good for a thousand pounds?"
Kate, still manifestly thinking of something else, let fall, as it were, out of her mouth that Mr. Gaunt and Mr. Neville were both men in the flower of their youth, and how was she the richer for their folly?
"Why," said Houseman, "you will not have to wait for the death of these testators—Heaven forbid!—But what does all this making of wills show me? That both these gentlemen are deep in love with you, and you can pick and choose: I say you can wed with Bolton Hall or Neville's Court to-morrow: so prithee let the Squire have his hundred pounds, and do you repay me at your leisure."
Miss Peyton made no reply, but leaned her exquisite head upon her hand and pondered.
She did not knit her brows, nor labour visibly at the mental oar: yet a certain reposeful gravity and a fixity of the thoughtful eye showed she was applying all the power's of her mind.
Mr. Houseman was not surprised at that: his own wife had but little intellect; yet had he seen her weigh two rival bonnets in mortal silence, and with all the seeming profundity of a judge on the bench. And now this young lady was doubtless weighing Farms with similar gravity, care, and intelligence.
But as this continued and still she did not communicate her decision, he asked her point-blank which of the two she settled to wed: Neville's Court, or Bolton Grange.
Thus appealed to, Miss Peyton turned her great eye on him without really looking at him, and replied,—"You have made me very uneasy."
He stared. She relapsed into thought a moment, and then, turning to Houseman, asked him how he accounted for those two gentlemen making their wills; they were very young to make their wills all of a sudden.
"Why," said Houseman, "Mr. Neville is a man of sense, and every man of sense makes his will; and, as for Mr. Gaunt, he has just come into prospect of an estate; that's why."
"All, but why could not Griffith wait till after the funeral?"
"Oh, clients are always in a hurry."
"So you see nothing in it? nothing alarming I mean?"
"Nothing very alarming. Two landed proprietors in love with you; that is all."
"But, dear Mr. Houseman, that is what makes me uneasy: at this rate they must look on one another as—as—rivals: and you know rivals are sometimes enemies."
"Oh I see now," said Houseman: "you apprehend a quarrel between the gentlemen. Of course there is no love lost between them; but they met in my office and saluted each other with perfect civility. I saw them with my own eyes."
"Indeed! I am glad to hear that; very glad. I hope it was only a coincidence then, their both making their wills."
"Nothing more you may depend: neither of them knows from me what the other has done; nor ever will."
"That is true," said Kate, and seemed considerably relieved.
To ease her mind entirely, Houseman went on to say that as to the report that high words had passed between the clients in question, at the Roebuck, he had no doubt it was exaggerated. "Besides," said he, "that was not about a lady; I'm told it was about a horse. Some bet belike."
Catherine uttered a faint cry. "About a horse!" said she. "Not about a grey horse?"
"Nay, that is more than I know."
"High words about a horse," said Catherine; "and they are making their wills. Oh! my mind misgave me from the first." And she turned pale. Presently she clasped her hands together—"Mr. Houseman!" she cried, "what shall I do? What, do you not see that both their lives are in danger? and that is why they make their wills. And how should both their lives be in danger, but from each other? Madmen! they have quarreled: they are going to fight; fight to the death: and I fear it is about me. Me who love neither of them, you know."
"In that case, let them fight," said her legal adviser, dispassionately. "Whichever fool gets killed, you will be none the poorer." And the dog wore a sober complacency.
Catherine turned her large eyes on him with horror and amazement, but said nothing.
As for the lawyer he was more struck with her sagacity than with anything. He somewhat overrated it; not being aware of the private reasons she had for suspecting that her two testators were enemies to the death.
"I almost think you are right," said he; "for I got a curious missive from Mr. Gaunt scarce an hour agone, and he says,—let me see what he says." "Nay, let me see," said Kate. On that he handed her Griffith's note. It ran thus—
"It is possible I may not be able to conduct the funeral. Should this be so, I appoint you to act for me. So then, good Mr. Houseman, let me count on you to be here at nine of the clock. For Heaven's sake fail me not.
"Your humble Servant,
"G.
