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Show THE FORGED WILL. It was my first visit to London since I had taken up my abode and entered on the practice of my profession as solicitor of Southampton. In London I had a very dear friend, my college chum, George Dickson, and of course I lost no time in looking him up. Three years had passed since our last meeting, but ten could have scarcely produced a change more marked than had taken place in the appearance and manner of my friend. Our first greeting over, I longed to ask the cause of my friend's melancholy. I felt sure, in due time, of being made the confidant of the secret, provided no motive of delicacy prompted its concealment. That evening George told me his story. He had formed an attachment for a young lady, whose graces of mind and person he portrayed with all a lover's eloquence. She had returned his affection, but her father had opposed his suit, having set his heart on the marriage of his daughter to a nephew of his. This nephew was a young surgeon of profligate character, my friend assured me. Weakness [unreadable] - who had long wooed his cousin, to whom his offers were as repugnant as to her father they were acceptable. Some months since, Mr. Parsons, the young lady's father had gone into Hampshire on business, accompanied by his nephew. At Southampton he had been seized with a sudden illness, which terminated fatally in three days. On the day preceding his death he had executed a will containing a solemn request that his daughter, to whom he left the whole of his estate, should accept the hand of his nephew in marriage, coupled with the provision that in case she refused within a specified period to enter into the proposed union the whole estate should be forfeited to the nephew. To sacrifice her fortune to her heart's choice would not have cost Julia Parsons a moment's hesitation. But her father's dying request, in Julia's eyes, was sacred. It had surprised and stunned her, it is true, for in their conference on the subject he had never gone beyond the most kindly remonstrances, and had never hinted at any thing like coercion. Young Parsons, the nephew, had not the magnanimity to forego his ungenerous advantage. He might have been content with his cousin's fortune alone, but his right to that depended on his offer and her rejection of an alliance which she felt in conscience bound to accept. The brief season of grace which she had been compelled to beg even with tears, had already almost passed, and a few more days would witness the condemnation of two lives to hopeless misery. At the conclusion of my friend's narrative, in which, for reasons that may hereafter be developed, I felt a peculiar interest, I prevailed on him to accompany me to a place of amusement. When we reached the theater the performance had already begun, but we succeeded in finding a seat which commanded a fine view of both the stage and the audience. In a few minutes George touched my elbow. "Observe the gentleman nearly opposite, in the front row, seated next to the column," he whispered. I looked in the direction indicated, and saw a face whose striking resemblance to one I had seen before caused me to start with surprise. "Who is it?" I asked. "Etheridge Parsons," was the reply. "The nephew?" "Yes." "Does he resemble his uncle?" I was on the point of inquiring, but then the stranger drew the glove from the right hand and I saw the first joint of the middle finger was gone, a circumstance which for a sufficient reason, absorbed my attention. "Do you know the exact date of Mr. Parson's death?" I asked, when we had gained the street at the close of the performance. "Yes," said George, "it was the 22d of December. His daughter received a telegram from her cousin announcing the fact the same day. But why do you ask?" "I have a reason which may or may not prove a good one,["] I returned; and stating that I had business engagements for the next day, I parted with my friend, promising to meet him on the following evening. Next afternoon found me at the house of Mr. Parsons. "Mr. Parsons, I presume?" were the words with which I accosted the gentleman I had seen at the theater. "Yes, sir." "You may not remember me, but we have met before." "I beg your pardon for not recollecting the occasion." "You were in Southampton last winter, were you not?" "I was," he replied, with some embarrassment. "I am the solicitor on whom you called to make a draft of the will." He turned pale, but made no reply. "I saw a record of that will at Dr. Cammon's this morning," I resumed, "and-" "You speak of my uncle's will," he hastily interrupted. "And yet you said it was yours when you applied to have it written. You represented yourself desirous of executing such a document, preparatory to embarking on a voyage. The paper was drawn in accordance with your instructions, leaving the date to be filled in at the day of signing. Your locks were gray then, and you certainly looked old enough to have a marriageable daughter; but your disguise was not perfect," and I pointed to the mutilated finger. "What do you mean?" he shouted. "Simply that you uncle's signature to that will is a forgery!" I answered, rising. "He died on the 23d of December. Your own telegram to that effect is in existence. It was on the day before Christmas that you called on me to prepare the document now on record as his will. The inference is plain; you undertook to manufacture this document after your uncle's death, and wishing to clothe your villainy in legal form, you procured from me the draft. You, or some one at your instigation, simulated the signature of the deceased. The witnesses, who have perjured themselves in their depositions, were procured in some manner best known to yourself-" "Enough, sir," he ejaculated, placing his back against the door; "you have shown yourself to be in possession of secrets, the custody of which proves dangerous." "I am not unprepared for your threats," I replied. "In the first place, I did not come here unarmed; in the next, I have prepared a full written statement of the facts to which I have alluded, with information, besides, of my present visit to yourself. This paper will be delivered to the friends to whom it is directed, unless, within an hour, I reclaim it from the messenger." His face grew livid. His frame quivered with mingled fear and rage, and his eye gleamed like that of a wild beast at bay. "What is your purpose?" he said, in a voice hoarse with suppressed passion. "To keep your secret while you live!" I answered, "on one condition." "Name it." "That you write instantly to Julia Parsons, renouncing all pretentions to her hand, and absolutely withdrawing your proposal." [unreadable] Third street, one door brief note which [unreadable] Our stock [unreadable] inspection. "Be so good as to seal and address it," I said. He did so." "I will see that it is delivered," I said, bowing myself out. When I met George the next evening his old college look had come back. He had great news to tell me. The next thing was to take me to see Julia; and it is needless to say that a happy marriage followed not long after. Etheridge Parsons emigrated to Australia. |