Part 41

Time went on, and the three boys had grown to manhood, and married, and two of the girls had filled out into mature womanhood in good time, and had married. Mr. Alvord, as I have said before, had been generous to them all, and impartial in the bestowal of his pecuniary favors; but it would have been impossible, under the circumstances, to have been equally respectful of them all in his heart, so diverse were they in character. The oldest boy grew up to be a very respectful, but sluggish and somewhat stupid man.

The second one became a tricky, crafty fellow, full of cunning wiles, and was what the world calls a "smart man"--ignorant of everything but business, and more willing to succeed at that through scheming and dishonorable practices (safely dishonorable, I mean, for he was too "smart" to do anything in which he was likely to be trapped; but dishonorable, still, in the strict interpretation of that word; only dishonorable so far as the laws of business would allow him to be--which is latitude enough for most wickedly-inclined men). He left the farm, for which Mr. Alvord tried to induce him to cultivate a love, and had gone into merchandizing on a moderate scale, a year or two after his marriage, and it was said at once of him that he could drive "as sharp a bargain as the best of them;" a phrase in which "worst" is substituted for "best" in the experienced hearer's mind.

His name was a peculiar one--"Floramond;" a name which his mother had selected from an old novel, which she read while bearing him, and which she made Mr. Alvord agree to not change when he adopted him. "Flor" was his nickname, which he always bore in manhood as well as in childhood, and it became a name in his neighborhood at last, which was a synonym of craft and business meanness. "That's Flor all over," was said when anybody, no matter who, was found guilty of some extortion, or cheating, or grasping meanness.

While Mr. Alvord lived, Floramond took better care of his reputation than afterwards. He was ever very attentive to Mr. Alvord, and never lost an opportunity of demonstrating to him his industry and attention to business, which were, indeed, very pleasing to Mr. Alvord, who, though he sometimes wished Floramond could not be quite so sharp and grasping, nevertheless knew the world well enough to know that most other men in business were like him to the extent of their ability; and so soothed himself into the belief that Floramond was "as good as they'll average." Besides, Floramond was a bit of a wag,--could tell a story well, made a good many hits at people, which pleased the majority,--and, withal, was a member of the Congregational church in his place of residence, and "in good and regular standing."

Mr. Alvord did not care for this last fact much. He was not a church-member, and lived and died a very good old man, without the church. But he reflected that the church-membership did not hurt Floramond in the people's eyes, even if it did him no especial good; and I suspect it operated to blind the old gentleman's eyes a little to Floramond's real character.

The third son took a literary turn, after he had made considerable progress in some mechanical pursuit,--I forget what,--and was sent to college, and at last graduated as a minister of the Dutch Reform order, I believe. He had no business capacity, and on a fair salary could never exactly make ends meet from year to year, and was considerable of a pensioner on the old gentleman's bounty.

The girls married pretty well, all of them. Of these, one was a shrewd witch, almost as keen as Floramond. Her name was Eliza, but she always bore the nickname "Lise," which would not always have been _mal apropos_ if it had been spelled "Lies;" for she had great skill in dissimulation and its kindred arts, even to the matter of pilfering, so the neighbors generally believed. But she had wit, and was quite handsome withal, and got a good, thorough-going business man for a husband. The second "daughter" in order proved a very nice, good-hearted woman, with moderate abilities, and the kindest of dispositions; and she, too, married a very worthy man.

The third "daughter" was one of those curious, undefinable creatures, perfect in almost every respect, and gifted in several directions. Mr. Alvord had adopted her in her tenth year, and had selected her in preference to any of several other children whose parents were anxious to "get the old man to 'dopt the gals," because she was so robust, so stoutly formed, and withal so hardy and agile. He thought she would surely make a large, queenly woman. But she changed greatly as she approached the age of puberty,--shot up into a tall, wiry, lithe form, and her rounded face lengthened to a peculiarly spiritual shape, developing intellect, in short,--whereas she indicated, at ten years of age, only strength and solidity--as her chief characteristics in womanhood. She was a brilliant scholar at the "high school," and not only that, very vivacious, and withal just as gentle in heart as she was almost rudely playful, when play was the real work to be done--for she did everything earnestly; and there was a peculiar earnestness in her very gentleness. It was a positive gentleness, a gentleness springing out of high principles, and not merely a passive inertness. Her name was Margaret, and she made the name beloved by all who knew _her_. She married a splendid man; but he died in four or five years after their marriage, and left her with two beautiful children, who inherited much of his good qualities--more physical beauty than their mother bore, with not a little of her great goodness; and it was thought he had left her "comfortably off," too; but somehow his partner in business managed to show that the firm was considerably involved, and she got but a small estate after all. Shrewd people suspected that her husband's partner knew how to "turn an honest penny" in a business way; especially when, three years after the husband's death, the partner built a very costly house, and added another horse to his old team, so that he drove a "spanking pair," before a carriage which was considered a "leetle" too expensive in that quarter of the world. But, however, 'twas no matter; she was poor, and old Mr. Alvord insisted that she should return to his home, with her children, and take charge of it for him.

These things I was told at the time of my becoming acquainted with the remaining family, long after Mr. Alvord's death. With him Margaret staid, a faithful, good woman, charitable to everybody, and beloved by all; by the poor, especially, who came to Mr. Alvord's house for aid, where they were sure to go first, before going anywhere else. With none of his children except Margaret, was Mr. Alvord on so intimate terms as with Floramond. They all lived some miles from him; but Floramond managed to see the old man often, and not unfrequently took him to his own home, and kept him there for a week or two weeks at a time, especially when he could take one of Margaret's children along with him; for the old man, though he had several grandchildren, did not seem to be very fond of any except Margaret's son and daughter.

Margaret continued to take charge of the house, and watched over old Mr. Alvord, like a dutiful loving daughter as she was; and the old man and his wife grew every year more and more fond of her. The wife being, in the latter years of her life, mostly an invalid, was very grateful for the tender care of Margaret, and when she came to die entreated Mr. Alvord that he should make his will, and make it particularly favorable to Margaret, whom she loved best of all, and who, being a widow with children, needed more than the rest. Mr. Alvord, of course, promised to do so, out of affection for both wife and daughter, and the old lady died blessing him; and though she had long been expected by her friends to die any day, suddenly, so suddenly did she die that only Mr. Alvord and Margaret were with her. There was no time to send for a neighbor, after she swooned away, one day, in her chair, before she was dead--reviving from the swoon but for a moment, before she took her last breath; in which moment, grasping the hands of Margaret and Mr. Alvord in her own, she blessed them both, and reminded Mr. Alvord of the will.

After her death, Floramond increased his attentions to Mr. Alvord; and finally, his own wife dying, he, a few months after her death, became more than usually interested in Margaret, and was found at Mr. Alvord's so often, that everybody was talking of his wonderful devotion to the old man. It is true that some people said he was "after the biggest slice in the old man's will," and hinted that he was mercenary rather than affectionate; but he was such a jolly fellow, that it was difficult to fix upon him the stigma of bad motives. Mr. Alvord was very devoted to Margaret, and Floramond must have felt that she would share as largely in Mr. Alvord's will (and he did not know then but he had already made one) as he, and perhaps more largely. Finally he proposed marriage to his adopted sister; as the best means, probably, of making sure of a large portion of Mr. Alvord's estate.

There was no blood relation between him and Margaret, and no reason in the law why they might not marry; still, Margaret was not a little shocked at the proposal from Floramond, with whom, as a "brother," she had enjoyed a very pleasant intimacy--one which she would not have allowed on any other consideration than that of brother-and-sisterhood. But Floramond was evidently greatly taken aback at her delicate refusal of his offer. But he persisted in his suit, not willing to suffer defeat so easily; and for a long while annoyed Margaret with his repeated offers, which annoyance she gently concealed, though persisting ever in the firmness of her resolve to "not marry anybody."

But Floramond did not believe her in this resolution to remain unmarried, believing that she would marry somebody else,--"take up with the first good chance,"--and so he laid her refusal to heart, as a personal affront to himself, and ridiculed the objection which she sometimes made, in that they were brother and sister in spirit, if not in blood; which objection was really a serious one in her feelings, although her reason told her that it need not prevail, because they were really no kin to each other. Besides, there was something, which she could not well define to herself, about Floramond, which, while it did not forbid her loving him as a brother, made her shudder when she thought of him in the light of a possible husband. Floramond renewed his suit from time to time, constantly with increased tenderness and delicacy, and finally resolved himself, after her repeated refusals, into the very best-behaving of brothers.

Finally, old Mr. Alvord, very perceptibly approaching his end, one day rode out with Margaret behind his span of fine horses, with which, and a nice double wagon, he had, among other luxuries, provided himself in his dotage, and regarding which the neighbors said he was becoming foolishly extravagant. But they little understood how much the quiet, saving old man was worth. He had been accustomed to drive his own horses, but of late was getting weak, and so transformed his "hired man" into a driver that day.

John Holt was a faithful, honest man, who had lived with Mr. Alvord for nearly twenty years, and was intrusted with everything. Mr. Alvord considered him one of the family; and although he always paid John for his services quite liberally, so that John had considerable money out at interest, yet he intended to remember him in his will to the extent of a thousand dollars, and on that day was, therefore, not at all private in what he said to Margaret. John heard most of it, and particularly remembered what Mr. Alvord said in regard to the legacy to him. He told Margaret how much he was worth,--a sum which quite astonished her,--and consulted with her in regard to what he should leave each of the children, to some of whom he proposed to leave but comparatively a small amount; but in each case Margaret urged him to leave more. He had done much for them all, but she was willing, in her generous nature, that he should make such legacies, and leave the remainder of his property to her and her children. To Floramond he had determined, he said, to leave one fourth; to divide another fourth between the other four; and to give to Margaret and her children half, imposing upon her the payment of a thousand dollars to John, and the distribution of certain matters of personal property to a few friends he named; five hundred dollars to be kept at interest, and that given annually to an old, decrepid widow in the place, who had been a schoolmate with him in Vermont, and whose husband had died in Mr. Alvord's employ, after many years of service. This she was to have as long as she lived, and he told Margaret that day that he had for several years contributed a like sum to her support, and that he had told the widow that if she outlived him, he would provide as much for her in his will. These with other things John had heard Mr. Alvord say to Margaret, and also that he had once made another will in different terms, which was lodged with Floramond, and had been drawn by Squire Emerson, a crafty old lawyer, when Mr. Alvord was once stopping at Floramond's for a week or two. "But the last will always revokes a former one," he told Margaret; so that he guessed that he would leave that where it was. It was thought afterwards that Mr. Alvord had some fear that if he called on Floramond to deliver up the will it might lead to trouble. Floramond might fear that he was not to fare so well.

The next day Mr. Alvord and John drove off to an old friend of Mr. A.'s,--a sort of universal genius, who held multiplied petty offices, and withal was considerable of a lawyer. He drew a will after Mr. Alvord's dictation, and Mr. A. signed it; but there was nobody at home but the old scribe, save a very young girl in the kitchen; and as John was a legatee, the man advised Mr. A. that he could not properly be a witness,--so Mr. Alvord said he would find others to witness it; and on his way home stopped at a neighbor's, went in, and declared the document to be his last will, etc., in the presence of two persons, who subscribed it as witnesses. But John did not _know_ this of a surety. He suspected the document had been properly declared. Mr. Alvord went home and showed the will to Margaret, and deposited it in a secret place among his drawers, telling her where. "Now," said he, "if the house should catch a-fire, you run for this will the first thing, for I can't bear the bother of making another."

Mr. Alvord lived on a year more. Meanwhile the people who had signed the will as witnesses had "sold out," and followed a son to California; but neither old Mr. Alvord nor Margaret thought of them then in connection with the will.

By and by Mr. A.'s "time" came, and with all his adopted children about him, he, after giving them his parting blessing, dropped away quietly into the arms of death. Floramond took upon himself the management of the funeral, which for that place was made somewhat extraordinary, and the plain old Mr. Alvord went to his grave with a pomp and show which he certainly would not have approved could he have foreseen it. After the funeral the children gathered at the house, and Floramond told them that he had, somewhere among his papers, a document which Mr. Alvord had given him, sealed up, and which he said was his will. He did not know its contents, he said, but would like to have a time appointed when they could all be there and hear it read. Margaret said nothing, for she hardly comprehended matters, so great and real was her grief over the death of Mr. Alvord; and a time was appointed, one week from that day, for them all to convene and hear the will read.

After they had all left, Margaret bethought her of what Mr. Alvord had said a year before about a former will, and went to look for the will which Mr. Alvord had given into her keeping, but it was not to be found! Where was it gone? She remembered to have seen it several times since its deposit in the drawer, when looking there for other things; but she could not convince herself whether or not she had seen it within some months. She talked with John about it, and John told her of what Mr. Alvord had done that day he rode to the old clerk's with him; and she rode over to the clerk's to consult him, but he said he knew nothing about the witnessing,--that the will must have been properly witnessed to be valid; and he said, too, that perhaps Mr. Alvord had altered his mind,--had destroyed the will without letting her know it; that the will, as drawn, revoked all former wills, and that if the existence of this latter will could be proved, it would set aside whatever will Floramond had had, but that it would be impossible, in the present state of things, to prove the existence of the lost will,--that if anybody had stolen it away, that fact could never probably be discovered. The conclusion of Margaret, after talking with this man, was to await and see what Floramond would bring.

The day came, and with it Floramond, with the will done up in a once white paper, but which time had turned brown, and strongly sealed. The seals Floramond broke before them all, drew forth the document, and handed it to one of his brothers, saying, "You read it out for us. You can read the old man's writing better than I."

The brother took it, opened it, and said,--

"This is not his writing--somebody's else. It looks like a lawyer's 'quail tracks,' but" (turning it over), "the signature is father's."

He tried to read it, but found himself puzzled; and one of the sisters tried to read it also, with like result. At last it was declared by them all that Floramond understood how to decipher poor writing better than the rest, and he read at it, making bungling work, however (pretendedly, of course, for well he knew every word of it). By this will Mr. Alvord had left all his estate to his "beloved son Floramond," subject to the payment of certain annuities to some of the children, among whom was Margaret, who was to have six hundred dollars a year until her children should arrive at age, and then three hundred during her life. The rest all had less. Indeed, the minister, for whom Mr. Alvord had done most in the way of giving him money, was allowed an annuity of but one hundred dollars (which was to provide him a rental, the will said), for three years, and was then cut off entirely.

Mr. Alvord's will was quite elaborate, and stated where his property was situated,--some in this and that farm, stock in manufacturing companies, money in banks and on interest; and they were all astonished at the large amount of it. The will had been written five years and more before, and there was one peculiar clause in it,--the suggestion of the crafty lawyer, probably,--which was to the effect that Mr. Alvord had never before made a will, and that he should never make another; that he might destroy this, and leave all his children to share alike if he did so.

Margaret was confounded. She saw that she was left, as it were, in the hands of Floramond, her often-rejected suitor, and she thought she saw a smile of triumph on his face. She was greatly confused as to whether she should say anything about the other will or not; but she thought, finally, that if she was to ever say anything about it, now was the time, when all were there. So she told them all about it, and where it was kept; how Mr. Alvord had brought it home, and how it left a great deal more to them all, and only one fourth to Floramond, and who witnessed it. This made the rest jealous of Floramond. With the old will they were in his hands: they were left comparatively poor. He had all, and the estate was far larger than any of them had thought, and it was probable that it had increased much in the five years, too.

Floramond professed to be astonished at what Margaret told, and said he was willing to abide, of course, as he would be compelled to do, by any subsequent will; but why, if father had made another will, did he not call for this one and tear it up? His not calling for it made him think, he said, that Margaret was probably mistaken. But Margaret was firm in her statement, and declared that her father had made her read it all over to him, and she told them about the thousand dollars left to John, and what John said about Mr. Alvord's calling, on the way home, to get the will witnessed. Then they sent out for John, who was at work on the farm, and he came in and told his story before them all. He could not say that Mr. Alvord had left him a thousand dollars in the will, but that the day before he had it drawn he said he was going to do so, and he supposed he did.

At this point Floramond, in a mild way, exhibiting no uneasiness, blandly suggested that 'before taking the will left with him to the surrogate's office, the house ought to be searched thoroughly. Perhaps Mr. Alvord, who had become quite childish and fickle in the last few weeks of his life, and was always an over-cautious man, had, some time when Margaret was away, put the document into a safer place, intending to tell her where, but forgetting it;' and so it was resolved by all of them that such a search should be made at once, before they parted; and for an hour that house was searched in every nook, drawer, and possible hiding-place. Old linen, which had not been for twenty years drawn forth from trunks and chests which held it, was tumbled over,--in short, the search was complete as it could be,--but no will could be found; and there seemed but one way to do--for all to acquiesce, and accept their fate upon the terms of the will which Floramond produced, and which was all correct in form.

But there was no little feeling among the children, some of whom declared it impossible that Mr. Alvord intended to make such disposition of his property; that Floramond must have in some way used improper influence with old Mr. Alvord; and all the public, when they came to hear of the will, were somehow impressed with the same opinion: nevertheless they all said that Floramond was a jovial fellow, and very thrifty; that Mr. Alvord liked thrifty people, and as he had provided Margaret with a sum sufficient in those days to live on, and had given her the rent of the house for life, perhaps it was, on the whole, just the thing he should have done. As for the lost will, that got noised about, and although everybody believed what Margaret said, yet the majority thought that probably Mr. Alvord had destroyed it. The will which Floramond had was duly presented and proved at the surrogate's office, and the estate settled under it.

Time went on, and it brought Floramond frequently to see Margaret,--to look after her affairs, and occasionally to bring her money. Now that she was in these straitened circumstances he pressed his suit quite violently and provokingly at times; and although her patience was oftentimes sorely tried, she bore her vexation quite philosophically. It was evident that he did not want her for her money, for she had none; but she could not believe, after all, that he loved her, and she was sure that she did not love him. Floramond was a good business man, and aside from the property he got under the will, he had accumulated a handsome sum for himself, and in the course of a year or two from Mr. Alvord's death he began to assume the airs and ways of a rich man;--enlarged his house and adorned his grounds quite expensively; built a row of houses in the village to rent, and possessed himself of "the best team in the county," as he was pleased to declare his noble span of black coach horses.