Sir Andrew, and a dozen other gentlemen present, intimate friends and relations of the deceased, were loud in their praises of the defunct, and nothing could be said that was too good in honour of his many inestimable qualities. He was— “A model father!” “An exemplary Christian!” “An honest and irreproachable merchant!” “Upright citizen!” “Ornament to commerce!” &c., first one and then another remarked, until at last, Phillip began to imagine, for the first time in his life, that his father must have been much more than an “ordinary” gentleman. When the will was read all the relations were much surprised to discover that nothing had been left them, and that everything had been bequeathed unreservedly to his only son, “after the payment of all just and honest debts.” Sir Andrew, although not related, appeared much disappointed, yet, concealing his chagrin at receiving no token of his profound friendship for deceased, gave vent to his feelings by giving long and fatherly advice to the heir. In truth, Mr. Sloman had scarcely finished reading the will, ere every one found they had important business elsewhere which required their instant attention, and did not stay one moment longer than necessary, to pay any more compliments to the memory of the “exemplary Christian” and “model father,” whom they had so loudly praised before the last will and testament had been read. For several weeks Phillip visited but little, and many observed that his grief must be “really genuine,” or he would have appeared in company long before. Many members of polite society called at his residence and left their cards, and among them not a few intriguing ambitious mothers, who had rather suddenly discovered the vast importance of Mr. Phillip Redgill, and of the unbounded friendship which they had “always” entertained for that “interesting, good-looking” young man. Sir Andrew, it must be confessed, was not behind any of the “polite” circle in frequently calling upon “his young friend,” and giving him fatherly advice. Yet he could not help grimly smiling at the “insiduous attempts,” as he termed it, of the many inquisitive, and industrious matrons, who were continually inviting the young man to sojourn with them for a few days, in order to “drive away his deep-seated melancholy,” and “make love to their daughters,” perhaps might have been added. At least, Sir Andrew imagined so, and did not fail to inform his wife and daughter, who threw up their hands and eyes in holy horror at the “worldliness and unscrupulousness of certain parties!” The true reason for Phillip’s non-appearance in society arose, not so much from “genuine grief,” or “deep-rooted melancholy,” at what all termed “the sad and lamentable bereavement,” as from anxiety to ascertain the true state of his father’s affairs.