The Executor: Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine vol. LXXXIXOliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
General
The Executor: Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine vol. LXXXIX
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Lawyers -- Fiction
The keys were in the open wardrobe, a heavy bunch. John Brown seized
hold of the furs on the bed and began to toss them into the wardrobe.
Some of them dropped in pieces in his hands and were tossed out again.
He took no notice of the lace or the trinkets, but swiftly-locked every
keyhole he could find in the room--drawers, boxes, cupboards,
everything. Nancy looked on with fierce exclamations. She would have her
rights--she was not to be put upon. She would have the law of him. She
would let everybody know how he was taking upon himself as if he was the
master of the house.
“And so I am, my good woman; when will you be ready to leave it?” said
Mr Brown. “You shall have due time to get ready, and I won’t refuse you
the trumpery you’ve set your heart upon. Judging from the specimen, it
won’t do Phœbe Thomson much good. But not in this sort of way, you know.
I must put a stop to this. Now let me hear what’s the earliest day you
can leave the house.”
“I’m not going to leave the house!” cried Nancy; “I’ve lived here thirty
years, and here I’ll die. Missis’s meaning was to leave me in the house,
and make me commforable for life. Many’s the time she’s said so. Do you
think you’re going to order _me_ about just as you please? What do you
suppose she left the property like that for but to spite the Christians,
and to leave a good home to me?”
“When will you be ready to leave?” repeated Mr Brown, without paying the
least attention to her outcries and excitement.
“I tell you I’m not agoing to leave!” screamed Nancy. “To
leave?--_me!_--no, not for all the upstarts in Carlingford, if they was
doubled and tripled. My missis meant me to stay here commforable all my
days. She meant me to have a girl and make myself commforable. Many and
many’s the time she’s said so.”
“But she did not say so in the will,” said the inexorable executor; “and
so out you must go, and that very shortly. Now don’t say anything. It is
no use fighting with me. You’ll be well treated if you leave directly
and quietly; otherwise, you shan’t have anything. The other keys,
please. Now mind what I say. You’re quite able to make a noise and a
disturbance, but you’re not able to resist me. You shall have time to
make your preparations and look out another home for yourself; but take
care you don’t compel me to use severe measures--that’s enough.”
“But I won’t!--not if you drag me over the stones. I won’t go. I’ll
speak to Mr Curtis,” cried the unfortunate Nancy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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