‘Mr. Loseby,’ the Rector said, with a trembling voice, ‘this cannot be so: there must be some mistake. Our dear friend, whom we have buried to-day, was a good man; he was a just man. It is not possible; there must be some mistake.’
‘Mistake! I drew it out myself,’ Mr. Loseby said. ‘You will not find any mistake in it. There was a mistake in his own mind. I don’t say anything against that; but in the will there’s no mistake. I wish there was. I would drive a coach and six through it if I could; but it’s all fast and strong. Short of a miracle, nobody will break that will--though I struggled against it. He was as obstinate as a mule, as they all are--all the Mountfords.’
‘Mr. Loseby,’ said Mrs. Mountford, ‘I did not approve any more than you did. It was not any doing of mine. I protested against it; but my husband--my husband had his reasons.’
‘There are no reasons that could justify this,’ said the tremulous old Rector; ‘it is a shame and a sin; it ought not to be. When a man’s will is all wrong, the survivors should agree to set it right. It should not be left like that; it will bring a curse upon all who have anything to do with it,’ said the old man, who was so timid and so easily abashed. ‘I am not a lawyer. I don’t know what the law will permit; but the Gospel does not permit such injustice as this.’
Mr. Loseby had pushed his spectacles up on his forehead and listened with an astonishment which was tinctured first with awe, then with amusement. The old Rector, feeblest of men and preachers! The lawyer gazed at him as at a curiosity of nature. It was a fine thing in its way. But to attack a will of his, John Loseby’s! He smiled at the folly, though he sympathised with the courage. After all, the old fellow had more in him than anybody thought.
Mrs. Mountford was roused too beyond her wont. ‘My husband had his reasons,’ she said, her pale face growing red; ‘he never did anything without thought. I would not change what he had settled, not for all the world, not for a kingdom. I interfere to set a will aside! and _his_ will! I don’t think you know what you are saying. No one could have such a right.’
‘Then it will bring a curse and no blessing,’ said the Rector, getting up tremulously. ‘I have nothing to do here; I said so at the first. Anne, my dear excellent child, this is a terrible blow for you. I wish I could take you out of it all. I wish--I wish that God had given me such a blessing as you for my daughter, my dear.’