Then followed a few more minor bequests, and instructions of a very simple nature, ending one long paragraph in the will; and as Mr Girtle removed his glasses, and proceeded deliberately to wipe them, the servants took advantage of the gloom where they sat to give each other a congratulatory shake of the hand. "I now come to the important bequests," said Mr Girtle, rebalancing his glasses in his calm deliberate way. "To Katrine Leveillee D'Enghien, daughter of my niece, Harriet D'Enghien, formerly Capel, the gold bangle presented to me by the Ranee, and one hundred pounds, free of duty, to buy mourning." "There, what did I tell you?" said Katrine, in a low, sweet voice, as she smiled at her companions. "To Gerard Artis, son of my cousin, William Artis," read on Mr Girtle, in the same monotonous, unmoved way; and then he stopped to draw one of the candles forward in front of the parchment. The young man shifted his position uneasily, and drew in his breath quickly as he thought of the testator's immense wealth, and glanced at Katrine. "I shall not get all," he thought, "for he will leave something to Paul Capel." Then, after what seemed an age of suspense, the old solicitor went on: "The sum of one hundred pounds, free of duty, to buy mourning." There was a death-like stillness as the lawyer paused. "Go on, sir, go on," cried Artis, in a harsh voice. "To Lydia Alicia--" "No, no, finish the bequest to me." "I did, sir. One hundred pounds to buy mourning." "What? Treat me worse than his servants?" "I believe, Mr Artis, if you will excuse me, that a testator has a perfect right to do what he likes with his own." "Then you influenced him," cried Artis furiously. "I shall dispute the will." The old gentleman smiled. "Influenced my old friend to leave me his signet ring, eh, Mr Artis? No, sir, the will was written by Colonel Capel himself, and afterwards transferred to parchment. If you will allow me. I will proceed." "I shall dispute the will. I say so at once," cried Artis, "that there may be no mistake. One hundred pounds each to Miss D'Enghien and myself! It is absurd, paltry, pitiful." "You never saw the testator, Mr Artis?" "No, sir." "Neither did you, Miss D'Enghien?" "I? Oh no." "He told me himself," continued the old lawyer, "that he had never seen either Miss Lawrence or Mr Paul Capel." Lydia murmured an assent. "No," said Capel, who felt a curious oppression at the chest, "I never saw my great uncle. I never even heard from or wrote to him." "May I ask why?" "I knew he was reported to be immensely rich, and--well, I felt that he might think I was trying to curry favour." "Let me see, Mr Artis, I think the deceased did pay your debts?" "Is this meant for an insult, sir?" "No, sir; it was a business-like defence of my old friend's memory. To proceed:--