; indeed, knowing myself so
entirely his favourite, I could not, if I had thought upon them, have
entertained a doubt as to their result. What then was my astonishment
when, couched in terms of the strongest affection, the whole bulk of the
property was bequeathed to Gerald; to Aubrey the sum of forty, to myself
that of twenty thousand pounds (a capital considerably less than the
yearly income of my uncle's princely estates), was allotted. Then
followed a list of minor bequests,--to my mother an annuity of three
thousand a year, with the privilege of apartments in the house during
her life; to each of the servants legacies sufficient for independence;
to a few friends, and distant connections of the family, tokens of the
testator's remembrance,--even the horses to his carriage, and the dogs
that fed from his menials' table, were not forgotten, but were to be set
apart from work, and maintained in indolence during their remaining span
of life. The will was concluded: I could not believe my senses; not a
word was said as a reason for giving Gerald the priority.

I rose calmly enough. "Suffer me, Sir," said I to the lawyer, "to
satisfy my own eyes." Mr. Oswald bowed, and placed the will in my hands.
I glanced at Gerald as I took it: his countenance betrayed, or feigned,
an astonishment equal to my own. With a jealous, searching, scrutinizing
eye, I examined the words of the bequest; I examined especially (for I
suspected that the names must have been exchanged) the place in which my
name and Gerald's occurred. In vain: all was smooth and fair to the eye,
not a vestige of possible erasure or alteration was visible. I looked
next at the wording of the will: it was evidently my uncle's; no one
could have feigned or imitated the peculiar turn of his expressions;
and, above all, many parts of the will (the affectionate and personal
parts) were in his own handwriting.

"The date," said I, "is, I perceive, of very recent period; the will is
signed by two witnesses besides yourself. Who and where are they?"

"Robert Lister, the first signature, my clerk; he is since dead, Sir."

"Dead!" said I; "and the other witness, George Davis?"

"Is one of Sir William's tenants, and is below, Sir, in waiting."

"Let him come up," and a middle-sized, stout man, with a blunt, bold,
open countenance, was admitted.

"Did you witness this will?" said I.

"I did, your honour!"

"And this is your handwriting?" pointing to the scarcely legib