“I charged him to repent, and if he had done any wrong to a fellow-creature which he could atone for, to make amends. Then I bade him turn for forgiveness for that, and all his sins, to the great God and Saviour, against whom he had chiefly sinned, but who would never refuse him forgiveness, since, in the very act of his seeking it, they were pledged for his salvation.” “Oh, thank God! that he died in peace with me,” broke in Lady Bell impetuously. “Rather thank God that he died in peace with his Maker, madam,” Mrs. Walsh did not fail to rebuke her. “I think he did; I am fain to hope he did, though he was not able to fulfil his part of the obligation here; the will must stand for the deed. ‘Torney Kenyon, who did all the Squire’s business, was from home, at the wedding of his son in Bristol. We sent twice, but we could not get hold of the man in time. I think it is better to tell you at once, Lady Bell, what you will hear later.” “As you will, madam,” replied Lady Bell dejectedly. “The Squire’s will was executed long before he ever saw your face, when his estate was bequeathed, failing any heir of his body, to my eldest son Jack. The substance of that will has been repeated since you offended the Squire, and it has neither been revoked nor altered, as my cousin certainly desired it to be altered, in his dying moments. But Mr. Walsh and me, expecting that you, or some one for you, would answer our summons, if you were in the country, have made up our minds, and will answer for Jack at his college, to take your wishes on the matter.” “I have no wishes, Mrs. Walsh,” exclaimed Lady Bell hastily. “We shall let you have whatever compensation you desire,” went on Mrs. Walsh, paying no heed to the demur, “being well aware that such were Squire Trevor’s intentions while he was yet in the body, and in his right mind, so that you are indebted to no bounty, but to bare justice for your share of the worldly inheritance that our cousin has left behind him.” “Madam, this honourable conduct does you and Mr. Walsh infinite credit.” Mrs. Sundon could not refrain from awarding her hearty approbation to her late antagonist. “Mrs. Sundon, I repeat that ‘tis but justice,” argued Mrs. Walsh with a stateliness of her own, winding up with her own favourite axiom, “The world and I have shaken hands long ago.” “You are all a great deal too kind to me,” wept Lady Bell, “a rebel who deserted my post. But indeed I had liefer, if you do not think it an impertinence in me to make an objection, that Mr. Trevor’s goods went to you and your son Jack, his friends. I am sure I have no right to a single sixpence.” “Beware of pride and sauciness still under the garb of disinterestedness, Lady Bell,” Mrs. Walsh said severely. “Nay, I’ll do whatever you will,” Lady Bell hastened to amend her statement, quite subdued, and feeling sadly as if she would never have the heart to have a will of her own again.