Part 48 (2/2)
Now, Mr. Wilts.h.i.+re was not immaculate. He had often admired Bertha: he had thought her an extremely taking girl. It had even occurred to him that, under certain conditions, she might be a very suitable wife for him. He was a widower of ten years' standing.
”I will see my client now that I have come,” he said, rising. ”Perhaps you had better prepare her for my visit.”
”She knows you are coming. I will take you up at once.”
”But it may be too great a shock.”
”Not at all; she is past all that sort of thing. Come this way.”
Bertha and the lawyer entered the heavily-curtained, softly carpeted room. Their footsteps made no sound as they crossed the floor. The nurses withdrew and they approached the bedside. Bertha had ink and paper ready to hand. The lawyer held out his hand to Mrs. Aylmer.
”My dear, dear friend,” he said, in that solemn voice which he thought befitting a death-bed and which he only used on these special occasions, ”this is a most trying moment; but if I can do anything to relieve your mind, and to help you to a just disposition of the great wealth with which Providence has endowed you, it may ease your last moments.”
”Yes,” said Mrs. Aylmer, in a choking voice, ”they are my last moments; but I think all my affairs are settled.”
Bertha looked at him and withdrew. Her eyes seemed to say: ”Take my part, and you will not repent it.”
Mr. Wilts.h.i.+re immediately took his cue.
”I am given to understand that Mr. Trevor has offended you,” he said; ”is that so?”
”He has, mortally; but I am too ill to worry now.”
”It will be easy to put a codicil to your will if you have any fresh desires with regard to your property,” said Mr. Wilts.h.i.+re.
”I am dying, Mr. Wilts.h.i.+re. When you come to face death, you don't much care about money. It cannot go with you, you know.”
”But it can stay behind you, my dear madam, and do good to others.”
”True, true.”
”I fear, I greatly fear that Mr. Trevor may squander it,” said Mr.
Wilts.h.i.+re slowly.
”I have no one else to leave it to.”
”There is that charming and excellent girl; but dare I suggest it?”
”Which charming and excellent girl?”
”Your secretary and companion, Miss Bertha Keys.”
”Ay,” said Mrs. Aylmer, ”but I should be extremely sorry that she should inherit my money.”
”Indeed, and why? No one has been more faithful to you. I know she does not expect a farthing; it would be a graceful surprise. She has one of the longest heads for business I have ever come across; she is an excellent girl.”
”Write a codicil and put her name into it,” said Mrs. Aylmer fretfully; ”I will leave her something.”
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