his trepidation and
too evident discomfort.

The document lying at the top of the bundle was opened out very
slowly by the attorney, who smoothed it down with his hand
preparatory to reading it. Then he looked at the date to assure
himself that it was the last will which he himself had drawn. He knew
it well, and was cognizant with its every legal quiddity. He could
judiciously have explained every clause of it without reading a word,
and might probably have to do so before the occasion was over; but
he delayed, looking down upon it and still smoothing it, evidently
taking another minute or two to collect his thoughts. This will
now under his hand was very objectionable to him, having been made
altogether in opposition to his own advice, and having thus created
that "scolding" of which the Squire had complained to Isabel. This
will bequeathed the whole of the property to Cousin Henry. It did
also affect to leave a certain sum of money to Isabel, but the sum
of money had been left simply as a sum of money, and not as a charge
on the property. Now, within the last few days, Mr Apjohn had learnt
that there were no funds remaining for the payment of such a legacy.
The will, therefore, was to him thoroughly distasteful. Should that
will in truth be found to be the last will and testament of the old
Squire, then it would be his duty to declare that the estate and
everything upon it belonged to Cousin Henry, and that there would be,
as he feared, no source from which any considerable part of the money
nominally left to Miss Brodrick could be defrayed. To his thinking
nothing could be more cruel, nothing more unjust, than this.

He had heard tidings which would make it his duty to question the
authenticity of this will which was now under his hand; and now had
come the moment in which he must explain all this.

"The document which I hold here," he said, "purports to be the last
will of our old friend. Every will does that as a matter of course.
But then there may always be another and a later will." Here he
paused, and looked round the room at the faces of the farmers.

"So there be," said Joseph Cantor the younger.

"Hold your tongue, Joe, till you be asked," said the father.

At this little interruption all the other farmers turned their hats
in their hands. Cousin Henry gazed round at them, but said never a
word. The lawyer looked into the heir's face, and saw the great beads
of sweat standing on his brow.

"You hea