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Page 10
Sarah Bond told him she should not feel bound to make this talent of
her father's a crime, by twisting into a _secret_ what he used to do
as an amusement. Mr. Cramp urged mildly the folly of this, when she
had a defence to make; but she stood all the more firmly upon what she
fearlessly considered the dignity of right and truth; at the same time
assuring him, she would to the last contest that _right_, not so much
for her own sake, or the sake of one who was dear to her beyond all
power of expression, but for the sake of _him_ in whose place she
stood, and whose honour she would preserve with her life. Mr. Cramp
was a good, shrewd man of business. He considered all Miss Bond's
energy, on the subject of her father's honour, as romance, though he
could not help believing _she_ was in earnest about it. He thought it
was perfectly in accordance with the old miser's character, that he
should procure or make such a document; though he considered it very
extraordinary, for many reasons, that it should have imposed upon men
more penetrating and learned than himself.
Sarah Bond, after his departure, endeavoured to conceal her anxiety
from her niece; but in vain. Mabel was too clear-sighted; and it was
a relief, as much as an astonishment to her aunt, to see how bravely
she bore up against the evil news. Miss Bond did not remember that the
knowledge of the _power_ of wealth does not belong to sixteen summers.
Mabel knew and thought so little of its artificial influence, that
she believed her happiness sprang from birds and flowers, from music,
and dancing, and books--those silent but immortal tongues that live
through centuries, for our advantage; besides, her young heart welled
forth so much hope, that she really did not understand, even if they
lost their fortune, their "troublesome fortune," as she called
it, that it would seriously affect their happiness. There was no
philosophy, no heroism in this; it was simply the impulse of a bright,
sunny, beautiful young mind.
The course of events promised soon to strip Mabel of all except her
own bright conceptions. Mr. Alfred Bond urged on his plea with all the
energy and bitterness of one who had been for many years despoiled
of his right. His solicitor, soon after his claim was first declared,
made an offer to Sarah Bond to settle an annuity on her and her niece
during the term of their natural lives; but this was indignantly
spurned by Sarah; from him she would accept no favour; she either had
or had not a right to the whole of the property originally left to
her uncle. Various circumstances, too tedious to enumerate, combined
to prove that the will deposited in Doctors Commons was not a true
document; the signature of Cornelius Bond Hobart was disproved by
many; but second only to one incident in strangeness was the fact,
that though sought in every direction, and widely advertised for in
the newspapers of the day, the witnesses to the disputed document
could not be found--they had vanished.
The incident, so strange as to make more than one lawyer believe for
a time that really such a quality as honesty was to be found in the
world, was as follows:--Sarah Bond, be it remembered, had never seen
the disputed will; she was very anxious to do so; and yet, afterwards,
she did not like to visit Doctors Commons with any one. She feared,
she knew not what; and yet, above all things, did she desire to see
this will with her own eyes.
Mr. Cramp was sitting in his office when a woman, muffled in a cloak,
and veiled, entered and seated herself without speaking. After a
moment she unclasped her cloak, loosened the wrapping from her throat,
threw back her veil, and asked for a glass of water.
"Bless me, Miss Bond, is it you? I am sure I am much honoured--very
much!"
"No honour, sir," she replied, "but necessity. I have been to Doctors
Commons; have seen the will--it is my father's writing!"
"You confess this to me?" said Mr. Cramp, drawing back on his chair,
and almost gasping for breath.
"I do," she answered; "I proclaim it; it is my father's _copy_ of the
original will. But how the copy could have been substituted for the
real will, I can only conjecture."
"Surmise is something," replied the lawyer, a little relieved;
"conjecture sometimes leads to proof."
"My father and uncle lived together when the will came into their
possession. They were in partnership as farmers. My father's habits
were precise: he always copied every writing, and endorsed his copies
with a large _C_; the very _C_ is marked upon the will I have just
seen at Doctors Commons."
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