Agnes, or, Beauty and Pleasure — page 198: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

- 190 AGNES; OR, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE. had been a horrible dream !—I mean our sundrance and severance. But I will make up-forit, Winnie! —yes—yes, my dear child, I will make up for it! So now to business.” Mr. Barrington arranged the writing-materials before him; and glancing up at Ormsby, he said, “ Will you dictate tho will, Mr. Hargrave P—for I am rather nervous 4 “You had better do it yourself, Mr. Barring- top,” responded the nobleman. ‘It need not be long—merely a few lines. But I suppose you have got the will you drew up on behalf of Gus- tavus ?” “Yes, yes,” answered the old man; “and I drew it up myself too. I will destroy it first.” “Tt is of no consequence,” said Ormsby, “ All you have to do is clearly and succinctly to express your present intentions—to the effect that your granddaughter Winifred Dalham, wife of Roderick Dalham, Hsq., is appointed your sole executrix, and that by this present will all previous ones are cancelled and revoked.” “To be sure! to be sure!” said the old man; “that is the right form—and—and—I will soon accomplish the task. Of course you will witness the document, Mr. Hargrave ?” “Yes —I and Mrs. Slater,” responded the nobleman: then drawing Winifred aside, he said in a low voice, “It is needless, as indeed it would | presently be impossible, to maintain any further mystery with you, because it is not the name of Hargruve which is anon to appear in attestation of that document !—it is another name !—one which deed ill!” cried Winifred: and she rushed forward — to sustain the old man as he sank back in his chair. — Lord Ormsby hastened to pour out the wines Mrs, Slater lost not a moment in procuring other restoratives—water, vinegar, sal volatile, and so ferth; and in a few mioutes Mr. Barrington ap- peared to be recovering. “You feel better now, dear grandfather ?” whispered Winifred, whose countenance brightened up after having for some minutes expressed the most painful anxiety. “Yes, yes—I am better now,” he murmured, but it was in a feeble tone,—“a great deal better! Dear, dear Winnie! thank God you are with me! I—I—might die without you! Do not leave me, Winnie !—Ohbh, pray do not leave me!—no, not even for a minute!” “T will not, dearest grandfather—I will not,” she replied in an earnest tone. “Dear girl! But let me see? what were we about? Ah! TI recollect! The will! the willt | Yes, yes, dear Winnie—all my riches must be perhaps you may have accidentally heard mentioned | in connexion with the parentage of a young lady who is sincerely attached to youP But I will not keep you in suspense: I allude to Miss Hyvelyn— and I am her father, Lord Ormsby.” It were impossible to describe the astonishment with which Winifred gazed upon the nobleman; and then an expression of radiant joy overspread her pale interesting countenancy, as she said, “ Ob, then, my dear friend Agnes is supremely happy now !—for doubtless, my lord, you have revealed yourself to your daughter P” “Yes—Agcnes is supremely happy,” answered the nobleman. “For the preseut it suits me to retain an incognito, and therefore the secret which is about to be revealed in this house will remain contined to yourselves. Of course I make an ex- ception on behalf of your husband.” “Tt isready! it isready!” were the words which issuing from the lips of old Mr. Barrington, at this reoment broke in upon the discourse that was taking place betwixt his granddaughter and Ormsby. ** Go and fetch Mrs. Slater,” said the nobleman to Winifred, “while I glance over the docu- ment.” The draft of the will was made with perfect accuracy, though the writing was in a nervous trembling hand. By the time Ormsby had perused the paper, Winifred returned to the room accom- panied by the kind-hearted landlady, to whom she had taken the opportunity of hastily whispering the real rauk end name of Lord Ormsby. “ Winonie—dear Winnie,” said the old man, “I —I— feel very faint—give me a glass of wine- @ “Good heavens, dear grandfather! you are in~ rr ree ee SS me up like that! |again, and my hand is firm as I grasp the pen; yours! JI always meant it—and now i6 shall be done! Let me sign the paper.” “For heaven’s sake, my lord,” whispered Wini- fred to the nobleman, “if you think there is the least danger arising from this state of excitement to which my poor grandfather is worked up ” “ No—he seems better now,” answered Ormsby, after having steadily surveyed the old man’s coun- tenance for a few moments. “At all events this is a warning and an indication that no time ought to be lost!” “Come, dear Winnie,” said the old man, “ you must be by my side while I do this. There! prop Ah! my right arm feels strong | because—because I am going to do an act of jus- and the witnesses sign there. tice, Yes—thatisit! It is astonishing ha ! ha!” and he chuckled gaily, “ how much stronger I feel at this moment! There! now for the ink! Let me seeP This is the place for my signature— Dear, dear Winnie! how could I ever have thought of doing otherwise than that which I am now about to do?” Mr. Barrington was on the very point of com- mencing his signature—the tip of the pen had touched the paper, when his head suddenly fell forward—a moan escaped his lips—and the blood from his mouth gushed over the document which lay unsigned before him. A ery of anguish burst from Winifred’s lips— Lord Ormsby sprang for- ward in alarm — and Mrs, Slater rushed to the bell to summon the servant in order that a surgeon might be immediately sent for. In a condition of complete unconsciousness, and apparently in a dying state, the old man was borne to his couch—by the side of which Winifred again took her place. Her heart was filled with the deepest woe—not because there was every reason now to apprehend the total alienation from herself and ber husband of the vast property which was still the subject of litigation —but because she dreaded lest death had already numbered the hours of the grandsire whom she had so unselfishly and devotedly loved ! (EO) book — ee