Jezebels Daughter | Page 5

a century--I was a lad employed in Mr.
Wagner's office. Being his wife's nephew, he most kindly received me
as a member of his household. What I am now about to relate I saw
with my own eyes and heard with my own ears. My memory is to be
depended on. Like other old men, I recollect events which happened at
the beginning of my career far more clearly than events which
happened only two or three years since.

Good Mr. Wagner had been ailing for many months; but the doctors
had no immediate fear of his death. He proved the doctors to be
mistaken; and took the liberty of dying at a time when they all declared
that there was every reasonable hope of his recovery. When this
affliction fell upon his wife, I was absent from the office in London on
a business errand to our branch-establishment at Frankfort-on-the-Main,
directed by Mr. Wagner's partners. The day of my return happened to
be the day after the funeral. It was also the occasion chosen for the
reading of the will. Mr. Wagner, I should add, had been a naturalized
British citizen, and his will was drawn by an English lawyer.
The fourth, fifth, and sixth clauses of the will are the only portions of
the document which it is necessary to mention in this place.
The fourth clause left the whole of the testator's property, in lands and
in money, absolutely to his widow. In the fifth clause he added a new
proof of his implicit confidence in her--he appointed her sole executrix
of his will.
The sixth and last clause began in these words:--

"During my long illness, my dear wife has acted as my secretary and
representative. She has made herself so thoroughly well acquainted
with the system on which I have conducted my business, that she is the
fittest person to succeed me. I not only prove the fullness of my trust in
her and the sincerity of my gratitude towards her, but I really act in the
best interests of the firm of which I am the head, when I hereby appoint
my widow as my sole successor in the business, with all the powers and
privileges appertaining thereto."
The lawyer and I both looked at my aunt. She had sunk back in her
chair; her face was hidden in her handkerchief. We waited respectfully
until she might be sufficiently recovered to communicate her wishes to
us. The expression of her husband's love and respect, contained in the
last words of the will, had completely overwhelmed her. It was only
after she had been relieved by a burst of tears that she was conscious of
our presence, and was composed enough to speak to us.
"I shall be calmer in a few days' time," she said. "Come to me at the
end of the week. I have something important to say to both of you."
The lawyer ventured on putting a question. "Does it relate in any way
to the will?" he inquired.
She shook her head. "It relates," she answered, "to my husband's last
wishes.
She bowed to us, and went away to her own room.
The lawyer looked after her gravely and doubtfully as she disappeared.
"My long experience in my profession," he said, turning to me, "has
taught me many useful lessons. Your aunt has just called one of those
lessons to my mind.
"May I ask what it is, sir?"
"Certainly." He took my arm and waited to repeat the lesson until we
had left the house; "Always distrust a man's last wishes on his
death-bed--unless they are communicated to his lawyer, and expressed

in his will."
At the time, I thought this rather a narrow view to take. How could I
foresee that coming events in the future life of my aunt would prove the
lawyer to be right? If she had only been content to leave her husband's
plans and projects where he had left them at his death, and if she had
never taken that rash journey to our branch office at Frankfort--but
what is the use of speculating on what might or might not have
happened? My business in these pages is to describe what did happen.
Let me return to my business.
CHAPTER II
At the end of the week we found the widow waiting to receive us.
To describe her personally, she was a little lady, with a remarkably
pretty figure, a clear pale complexion, a broad low forehead, and large,
steady, brightly-intelligent gray eyes. Having married a man very much
older than herself, she was still (after many years of wedded life) a
notably attractive woman. But she never seemed to be conscious of her
personal advantages, or vain of the very remarkable abilities which