The Last and the First by Ivy Compton-Burnett Page A

postman was pressed for time.”
    â€œIt is from the lawyers. Some sort of document,” said Osbert. “What are you engaged in, Grannie?”
    â€œIn nothing. It is a copy of your uncle’s will. They wrote that they were sending it. There won’t be anything to say about it. I know very much what it must be.”
    â€œIt will only affect yourself,” said Erica. “But there may be some minor legacies that will have a human interest.”
    â€œIt will be short and clear,” said Jocasta, as she broke the seal. “There can be no question about it. ‘This is the last will and testament of me, Hamilton Grimstone, bachelor, of Egdon House, Egdon, Somerset.’ Then some legal formalities and what you call minor legacies to servants and other dependants. And now the gist of the will. ‘I give and bequeath to my mother, Jocasta Grimstone, widow, all of which I die possessed in the aforesaid house which she owns and at present occupies. And all else of which I die possessed, namely my investments, securities and moneys at the bank, I give and bequeath absolutely to Hermia Heriot, spinster, of Egdon Hall, Egdon, Somerset, whom I wished to make my wife—’ Hermia Heriot! The Heriots’ eldest daughter! The mistress of the school! What does it mean? It can’t mean what it says. It can’t be meant as it stands.”
    There was a pause. Hollander vanished from the room as if feeling his presence an intrusion, allowing his demeanour to change at the door to one of eager purpose.
    â€œIt does mean what it says,” said Osbert. “All wills are meant as they stand. And this one stands like this. There is something we have not known. Did Uncle see much of Miss Heriot?”
    â€œHe saw her at the school when he went there with Amy and me. He showed an interest in her both before and after they met. Both before and after; that tells its tale; the feeling was half imaginary. It can’t have meant anything. He would not have kept it from his mother. What are we to do about it? It is clear that something should be done.”
    â€œIt seems she must have refused him,” said Erica.“Of course she knew him very little. She may not want to take the money. It seems possible that she will not.”
    â€œMost people want to take money,” said Osbert. “It gives them so much else that they want. This is an unusual case, but it follows the usual line. There is no other for it to follow.”
    â€œIt is too unusual to be accepted,” said his grandmother. “He must have made the will in a mood of emotion, and then omitted to alter it. It is a trouble to change a will. My poor boy, he went through that alone. But it could not have gone deep.”
    â€œHe may have wished it did,” said Erica. “Perhaps he wanted an outlet for feelings he liked to imagine. And he could not know that he was going to die, and that the will would take effect.”
    â€œThat is another way of saying it means nothing. That is, in itself. Of course it has its legal meaning.”
    â€œIt has,” said Osbert. “And it is the whole of its actual meaning. The money belongs to Hermia Heriot, as his other possessions belong to you. That is how he has apportioned his effects. Is the money very much? Have you any idea of the amount?”
    â€œNo definite idea. He inherited a fortune and added to it. He was reticent about the figures, but they were on an unusual scale. If Miss Heriot had known it, and known him better, we can’t say what the result would have been.”
    â€œBut she would not have accepted him,” said Amy, unthinkingly, or rather saying what she thought.
    â€œWe shall never know what she would have done if she had seen more of him.”
    Amy was silent on the probable result of this.
    â€œWe know nothing,” said Erica, “except how he felt to her or wished to feel.”
    â€œIt is true, poor boy! Oh,