Delia Blanchflower | Page 9

stone to be laid in October--good! "But how the deuce
can I get hold of some more women to help work it! Scandalous, how
few of the right sort there are about! And as for the Asylums

Committee, if we really can't legally co-opt women to it, as our clerk
says"--he looked again at a letter in his hand--"the law is an ass!--a
double-dyed ass. I swear I won't visit those poor things on the women's
side again. It's women's work--let them do it. The questions I have to
ask are enough to make an old gamp blush. Hallo, what's this?"
He turned over a large blue envelope, and looked at a name stamped
across the back. It was the name of a well-known firm of London
solicitors. But he had no dealings with them, and could not imagine
why they should have written to him.
He opened the letter carelessly, and began to read it,--presently with
eager attention, and at last with amazement.
It ran as follows:
"From Messrs. MORTON, MANNERS & LATHOM, Solicitors,
Adelphi, London, W. C."
"Dear Sir,--We write on behalf of Lord Frederick Calverly, your
co-executor, under Sir Robert Blanchflower's will, to inform you that in
Sir Robert's last will and testament--of which we enclose a
copy--executed at Meran six weeks before his decease, you are named
as one of his two executors, as sole trustee of his property, and sole
guardian of Sir Robert's daughter and only child, Miss Delia
Blanchflower, until she attains the age of twenty-five. We believe that
this will be a complete surprise to you, for although Sir Robert,
according to a statement he made during his last illness to his sister,
Miss Elizabeth Blanchflower, intended to communicate with you
before signing the will, his weakness increased so rapidly, after it was
finally drawn up, that he was never able to do so. Indeed the morning
after his secretary had written out a clear copy of what he himself had
put together, he had a most alarming attack from which he rallied with
difficulty. That afternoon he signed the will, and was just able to write
you the letter which we also enclose, marked by himself, as you will
see. He was never properly conscious afterwards, and he died in Paris
last Thursday, and was buried in the Protestant cemetery at Mont
Parnasse on the Saturday following. The will which was in our custody

was opened in London yesterday, by Lord Frederick Calverly, in Miss
Blanchflower's presence. We understand from her that she has already
written to you on the subject. Lord Frederick would also have done so,
but that he has just gone to Harrogate, in a very poor state of health. He
begs us to say that he is of course quite aware that your engagements
may not allow you to accept the functions offered you under the will,
and that he will be in considerable anxiety until he knows your decision.
He hopes that you will at least accept the executorship; and indeed
ventures to appeal very strongly on that account to your old friendship
for Sir Robert; as he himself sees no prospect of being able to carry out
unaided the somewhat heavy responsibilities attaching to the office.
"You will see that a sum of £4000 is left to yourself under the will."
We remain, dear Sir,
Your obedient servants,
MORTON, MANNERS & LATHOM. "(Solicitors.)"
"MARK WINNINGTON, Esq., J. P. Bridge End, Maumsey, Hants."
A bulky document on blue paper, and also a letter had dropped to the
ground. Winnington stooped for the letter, and turned it over in
stupification. It was addressed in a faltering hand, and marked, "To be
forwarded after my death." He hastily broke the seal.
"MY DEAR MARK WINNIXGTON,--I know well what I am laying
upon you. I have no right to do it. But I remember certain days in the
past, and I believe if you are still the same man you were then, you will
do what I ask. My daughter ought to be a fine woman. At present she
seems to me entirely and completely out of her mind. She has been
captured by the extreme suffrage movement, and by one of the most
mischievous women in it; and I have no influence with her whatever. I
live in terror of what she may do; of what they may lead her to do. To
attempt to reason with her is useless; and for a long time my health has
been such that I have avoided conflict with her as much as possible.
But things have now come to such a pass that something must be done,

and I have tried in these last weeks, ill as I am, to face the future. I want
if I can to save Delia from wasting