University of Virginia Library

39. XXXIX.
Two Cases are Brought to a Decision.

THE paralytic old man, Mr. Solomon Fudge,
has been removed to a small house in the village
of Newtown. It is cheaper living in the country,
and the physician (perhaps doubtful of his fees)
has recommended country air. Mrs. Phœbe chafes
greatly at the narrowed house (she will have a narrower
one in the end), and looks down, even in her
poverty, upon the vulgar town's-folk.

Mrs. Fleming and Kitty are watchful and kind,
and their brightening hopes do not break up the old
ties of kindred. Indeed, Mrs. Solomon talks more
often of the approaching trial, than they. Perhaps,
she founds hopes upon it, of seeing one day again a
claret carriage in the family.

Squire Bivins is busy all day long with papers
and witnesses, and what not—growing very proud
of his business connection with an eminent attorney
of the city, and brushing up his wig, from time to
time, for a visit to “the Hall,” or to the grand
Wall street office of his colleague.

Kitty, seeming indifferent to the issue of events,
relieves her school-hours with visits to the bedside
of Bessie, or with a reading of the morning papers
to the old paralytic uncle; for he can understand
voices, though he can say nothing intelligibly himself;
yet he stammers about the “will,” and the
“trial,” and “Bodgers,” in a pitiable way.

The Countess, his daughter, sometimes ventures
upon a visit, but the old gentleman seems to take
little comfort in his daughter; he certainly never
did before her marriage, and there is no more reason
for it now. Washington, for a time, was subdued
into real tenderness; and for weeks after the fearful
stroke which his own action had drawn upon
the father's head, he hung about his chair and his
room, learning little offices of charity and kindness,
which were unknown to his earlier years. But he
wearied of this; the appetites he had fed so long
were stronger than the sudden impulses which
quickened a thought of duty. The old man missed
him at first, for his heart had warmed towards him

as suddenly as his affliction had come. He prated
sadly about his absence. But Washington did not
hear, or if he heard, it was easy not to understand
his gibberish; and he only came now at such far
away intervals that the father scarce knew his son.

Meantime, the trial drew on. Mr. Brazitt was
retained by the Quids. He discovered strong
points in their case yet. Blimmer and his evidence
were good subjects for his art. He liked to dissect
the character of a man who had sold his trust, first
to his client, and then, for larger pay, doubtless, to
the plaintiffs. It was a pretty scheme for raising
funds, in the proprietor of a stagnant township.
He thought Blimmersville would not grow under
such auspices. He feared he had gone too far.
He didn't think the proposed church would save
him. He gave a severe cross-questioning to the
boy, Jerry; he wished to know if he had not
received little dainties from Mr. Blimmer; he
wished to know how long he had been in his pay;
he thought it must be a curious office-door, through
which so much could be seen and heard; he was
particular about the size of the key-hole.

Then, as regarded the document itself, of which
this enterprising village proprietor had effected, as
it were, a double sale, there was an extraordinary
fact in relation to it, to wit, that the most intimate

adviser of Mr. Bodgers had declared the signature
a forgery: it was very droll; indeed, as he would
take the liberty of demonstrating to the court, the
signature was wholly unlike the handwriting of the
deceased gentleman. And it happens, naturally
enough, that the legal adviser of the deceased gentleman
at once fastens his suspicions upon his office
clerk as a party to the forgery of the paper. It
appeared that the suspected clerk was a suitor for
the hand of the legatee—an extraordinary coincidence.

Now, what happens? The repulsed suitor takes
himself out of the way, and says nothing; but,
after the conspiracy is ripe between our village
proprietor and the Newtown Justice, he suddenly
comes back, threatens the amiable Justice with
a prosecution, and induces him to change his mind,
and to swear that the signature is good.

An Irish boy is suborned to make observations
through a key-hole, and swears that a certain will
is burnt; but, on arranging stories with the Justice
of Newtown, is of opinion that it was not a
will, but a copy of a will!

“These are certainly extraordinary tales,” says
Mr. Brazitt. And the attorney goes on to make
himself eloquent in defence of his client, against the
accusations of fraud; he recites the charge against

him of having paid a large sum of money for the
privilege of burning the written copy of a will, and
the equally astounding charge of having, with an
honesty wholly accidental, placed the alleged true
instrument in the hands of the plaintiff.

“Never was there a set of stories more absurd,”
says Brazitt; “enough in themselves surely to
throw great discredit upon the instrument, and
upon all the parties concerned.”

“Next,” continues Brazitt, “under the supposition—a
very extraordinary one, may it please your
honors—that this instrument is genuine; that the
deceased gentleman at that precise epoch of time
did have a lame arm, which compelled a total
change in his style of writing; that Mr. Flint did
attest it, without once mentioning to the old gentleman
the necessity of a second witness; that Mr.
Bodgers did chance to have it in his pocket
upon a certain lamentable occasion; that he did
deliver it in form to Mr. Blimmer; that Mr. Blimmer
did make a bargain to deliver it to my client;
that my client did, with unheard-of stupidity, make
further bargain for the destruction of a copy, and,
finally, deliver the original into the hands of the
plaintiff—what is it worth?

“Is it executed according to law?” (in a very
solemn tone). “And, if not, do the court propose

to make an exception in its favor, in view of the
extraordinary net-work of stories—of bargain and
sales; of burnings and key-holes; of forging and
lame arms, which accompanies the verification of
this document?”

And Mr. Brazitt wiped the perspiration from his
forehead, and sat down.

For the Fleming interest, it was urged:

First, in respect to the attesting witness, that his
character had been always unimpeachable; that as
he left the country previous to the loss of Mr. Bodgers,
there could have been no object in forging the
paper in question; and that furthermore, the allegation
of his having been a suitor for the hand of
Miss Fleming was utterly unfounded.

Second, as regarded the discrepancy between the
signature to the will and the usual handwriting of
Mr. Bodgers, it was shown by abundant testimony,
independent of the subscribing witness, that the
deceased gentleman was at the time suffering from
a disabled arm; letters of even date, under his
hand, exhibited the same discrepancy. The testimony
of Mr. Bivins was full in respect to the body
of the will, drawn up by him under the advices of
Mr. Bodgers, and demonstrating his intentions with
respect to the legatee; and finally, the memoranda
produced to the court, and attested by Mrs. Dyke,

showed conclusively that he had, at some time not
far from the date of his death, caused his will to be
drawn up and executed.

Third, with respect to Blimmer, there could be no
doubt of his having been in company with Mr. Bodgers
when he was last alive; a casual notice had
appeared in the papers of only the following day,
and before concert could have been arranged, that
he had received from the deceased, commissions of
importance. The defendant even did not deny interviews
with him upon matters connected with the
estate. What were those interviews about, and
what could the important commission be, unless the
will in hand? Or, if Mr. Quid did not receive the
instrument from that source, whence did he receive
it? If not from Mr. Bodgers himself, whence could
Blimmer have received the will? And if from
Bodgers himself, with what reason could the paper
be counted a forgery?

Fourth, with respect to the execution of the will:
The law indeed required two witnesses. There were,
however, exceptional cases, in which so-called nuncupative
wills were sound. Such were the only testaments
of mariners dying at sea, or of soldiers on the
field of battle.

The spirit of the exception was clear; indeed the
famous statute of Charles the Second's time, for

prevention of frauds, and quoted by all law-writers,
extended the exception in this language: “No nuncupative
will is good except” (war cases follow),
“or the party be surprised with sickness on a journey,
or from home, and dies without returning to
his dwelling.”

The deceased gentleman, in the present instance,
had intended—as shown by abundant proof—the
actual disposition of the property under the will;
it bore the attestation of an unimpeachable witness.
The deceased, as his memorandum shows, was not
quite certain if a single witness was sufficient; he
determined to inquire, and if need be, to supply
the deficiency; he is, however, surprised upon
a burning boat; he has the instrument with him;
he delivers it to a party (bearing testimony to
the fact), under the solemn avowal that it is his
last will and testament; he, in fact, by that very
averment, under the circumstances, made him a
witness, and completed in equity the execution of
the will.

Day after day, the trial drags on. It seems
uncertain which way it will turn. Meantime, the
little village school, with its choir of voices, goes on
joyously. News come down, day after day, from
the court; but they do not seem to disturb the
quiet mistress of the cottage, where the hum of the

children is heard, and where the birds twitter in the
vine upon the porch.

It was on a summer evening, after the school had
broken up for the day, that the tidings at length
came that the case was decided, and decided in
favor of the Flemings.

The court had given an order by which immediate
recovery of all the Bodgers' property might be made,
in the name of the successful party to the suit.

And Kitty was suddenly made rich. Old Mrs.
Fudge, her worthy aunt, paid her a visit of gratulation,
and kissed her affectionatly, and treated her
almost as considerately as she had once treated the
Spindles. Even the Countess Salle, from her unknown
quarters in the city, sent her card to Kitty
(with a crescent at the top), wishing her joy, and
inviting herself to come and see her “dear Kitty”
in the summer time, and sending the Count's
regards.

Harry Flint called to say to Mrs. Fleming that
he was glad of their good fortune; but he would
not accept the old lady's invitation to remain to
tea.

Indeed little Bessie was very badly; the fever
had left her, but she was feeble. Harry had grown
so weary with watching, that he fell asleep that
very night with the little girl lying on his shoulder.

It was two hours after, when the aunt, who had
grown nervously frightened, came in and found him
sleeping, with the child—dead in his arms.

He was wakened by the cry of the old lady, and
was bitterly affected when he knew how it was. He
could not tell when the child died. She seemed to
have leaned towards him, as if to speak; perhaps
she feared to waken him, and so kept silent—always
silent now!

Harry's heart had twined around that of Bessie
lovingly. A little sister's affections, before they
have found range in a home of their own making,
warm up wonderfully those of a brother who is battling
the world alone. Most of all, when parents
are gone; and when the memory of father, and
mother, and fireside, all centre in the one we call
sister.

Harry lifted the hair from the temple of the dead
girl, and kissed her, and went out.

When he saw her next she was in white, with a
fresh flower in her hand, ready for the coffin. She
was lying straightly and stiffly; had it not been for
that, one would hardly have thought her dead.