Good--first name the legatee--is that right, Sir Reginald?"

"Quite right, Sir Gervaise; and Sir Wycherly will understand that he now names the first person to whom he wishes to bequeath any thing else."

"Milly," muttered the sick man.

"What? Mills!--the mills go with the lands, Sir Reginald?"

"He means Miss Mildred Dutton," eagerly interposed Wycherly, though with sufficient modesty.

"Yes--right--right," added the testator. "Little Milly--Milly Dutton--good little Milly."

Sir Gervaise hesitated, and looked round at Bluewater, as much as to say "this is bringing coals to Newcastle;" but Atwood took the idea, and wrote the bequest, in the usual form.

"'I give and bequeath to Mildred Dutton,'" he read aloud, "'daughter of Francis Dutton of the Royal Navy, the sum of ----' what sum shall I fill the blank with, Sir Wycherly?"

"Three--three--yes, three."

"Hundreds or thousands, my good sir?" asked Sir Gervaise, a little surprised at the amount of the bequest.

"Guineas--three--thousand--guineas--five per cents."

"That's as plain as logarithms. Give the young lady three thousand guineas in the fives, Atwood."

"'I give and bequeath to Mildred Dutton, daughter of Francis Dutton of the Royal Navy, the sum of three thousand guineas in the five per cent.

stocks of this kingdom.' Will that do, Sir Wycherly?"

The old man looked at Mildred and smiled benevolently; for, at that moment, he felt he was placing the pure and lovely girl above the ordinary contingencies of her situation, by rendering her independent.

"Whose name shall we next insert, Sir Wycherly?" resumed the vice-admiral. "There must be many more of these guineas left."

"Gregory--and--James--children of my brother Thomas--Baron Wychecombe--five thousand guineas each," added the testator, making a great effort to express his meaning as clearly as possible.

He was understood; and, after a short consultation with the vice-admiral, Atwood wrote out the devise at length.

"'I give and bequeath to my nephews, Gregory and James Wychecombe, the reputed sons of my late brother, Thomas Wychecombe, one of the Barons of His Majesty's Exchequer, the sum of five thousand guineas, each, in the five per cent. funded debt of this kingdom.'"

"Do you approve of the devise, Sir Wycherly? if so, make the usual sign of a.s.sent?"

Sir Wycherly complied, as in all the previous cases of his approval.

"Whose name shall we next insert, in readiness for a legacy, Sir Wycherly?" asked the admiral.

Here was a long pause, the baronet evidently turning over in his mind, what he had done, and what yet remained to do.

"Spread yourselves, my friends, in such a way as to permit the testator to see you all," continued the vice-admiral, motioning with his hand to widen the circle around the bed, which had been contracted a little by curiosity and interest; "stand more this way, _Lieutenant Wycherly Wychecombe_, that the ladies may see and be seen; and you, too, Mr.

Thomas Wychecombe, come further in front, where your uncle will observe you."

This speech pretty exactly reflected the workings of the speaker's mind.

The idea that Wycherly was a natural child of the baronet's, notwithstanding the Virginian story, was uppermost in his thoughts; and, taking the supposed fact in connection with the young man's merit, he earnestly desired to obtain a legacy for him. As for Tom, he cared little whether his name appeared in the will or not. Justice was now substantially done, and the judge's property being sufficient for his wants, the present situation of the lately reputed heir excited but little sympathy. Nevertheless, Sir Gervaise thought it would be generous, under the circ.u.mstances, to remind the testator that such a being as Tom Wychecombe existed.

"Here is your nephew, Mr. Thomas, Sir Wycherly," he said; "is it your wish to let his name appear in your will?"

The sick man smiled coldly; but he moved his head, as much as to imply a.s.sent.

"'I give and bequeath to Thomas Wychecombe, the eldest reputed son of my late brother, Thomas, one of the Barons of His Majesty's Exchequer,'"

read Atwood, when the clause was duly written; "'the sum of ----, in the five per cent. stocks of this kingdom.'"

"What sum will you have inserted, Sir Wycherly?" asked the vice-admiral.

"Fifty--fifty--_pounds_" said the testator, in a voice clearer and fuller than he had before used that day.

The necessary words were immediately inserted; the clause, as completed, was read again, and the approval was confirmed by a distinctly p.r.o.nounced "yes." Tom started, but, as all the others maintained their self-command, the business of the moment did not the less proceed.

"Do you wish any more names introduced into your will, Sir Wycherly?"

asked the vice-admiral. "You have bequeathed but--a-a-a--how much--hey!

Atwood?--ay, ten and three are thirteen, and fifty _pounds_, make 13,180; and I hear you have 20,000 funded, besides loose cash, beyond a doubt."

"Ann Larder--Samuel Cork--Richard Bitts--David Brush--Phoebe Keys," said Sir Wycherly, slowly, giving time after each pause, for Atwood to write; naming his cook, butler, groom, valet or body-servant, and housekeeper, in the order they have been laid before the reader.

"How much to each, Sir Wycherly?--I see Atwood has made short work, and put them all in the same clause--that will never do, unless the legacies are the same."

"Good--good--right," muttered the testator; "200--each--1000--all--money--money."

This settled the point, and the clause was regularly written, read, and approved.

"This raises the money bequests to 14,180, Sir Wycherly--some 6 or 7000 more must remain to be disposed of. Stand a little further this way, if you please, Mr. _Wycherly_ Wychecombe, and allow the ladies more room. Whose name shall we insert next, sir?"

Sir Wycherly, thus directed by the eager desire of the admiral to serve the gallant lieutenant, fastened his eyes on the young man, regarding him quite a minute in silent attention.

"Virginian--same name--American--colonies--good lad--_brave_ lad--1000," muttered the sick man between his teeth; and, yet so breathless was the quiet of the chamber, at that moment, every syllable was heard by all present. "Yes--1000--Wycherly Wychecombe--royal navy--"

Atwood's pen was running rapidly over the paper, and had just reached the name of the contemplated legatee, when his hand was arrested by the voice of the young man himself.

"Stop, Mr. Atwood--do not insert any clause in my favour!" cried Wycherly, his face the colour of crimson, and his chest heaving with the emotions he felt it so difficult to repress. "I decline the legacy--it will be useless to write it, as I will not receive a shilling."

"Young sir," said Sir Gervaise, with a little of the severity of a superior, when he rebukes an interior, in his manner; "you speak hastily. It is not the office of an auditor or of a spectator, to repel the kindness of a man about to pa.s.s from the face of the earth, into the more immediate presence of his G.o.d!"

"I have every sentiment of respect for Sir Wycherly Wychecombe, sir;--every friendly wish for his speedy recovery, and a long evening to his life; but, I will accept of the money of no man who holds my country in such obvious distaste, as, it is apparent, the testator holds mine."

"You are an Englishman, I believe, _Lieutenant_ Wychecombe; and a servant of King George II.?"

"I am _not_ an Englishman, Sir Gervaise Oakes--but an American; a Virginian, ent.i.tled to all the rights and privileges of a British subject. I am no more an Englishman, than Dr. Magrath may lay claim to the same character."

"This is putting the case strongly,--hey! Atwood?" answered the vice-admiral, smiling in spite of the occasion. "I am far from saying that you are an Englishman, in all senses, sir; but you are one in the sense that gives you national character and national rights. You are a _subject_ of _England_."

"No, Sir Gervaise; your pardon. I am the subject of George II., but in no manner a subject of _England_. I am, in one sense, perhaps, a subject of the British empire; but I am not the less a Virginian, and an American. Not a shilling of any man's money will I ever touch, who expresses his contempt for either."

"You forget yourself, young man, and overlook the future. The hundred or two of prize-money, bought at the expense of your blood, in the late affair at Groix, will not last for ever."