"Share and share alike!" echoed Mr. Fred,
with a sounding oath. "Nay; the old man was
too proud of his fortune to do that, brother
Jacob. My own notion of this matter is—-
Hush! Any one listening?"

Captain Trefalden rose, glanced into the hall,
closed the door, and resumed his seat.

"Not a soul. Well?"

"Well, my own notion is, that we younger
sons shall have a matter of sixty or eighty
thousand a piece; while you, as the head of the
family, will take the bulk."

"It may be, Fred," mused the captain,
complacently.

"And that bulk," continued Mr. Fred, "will
be some three hundred and forty thousand
pounds."

"I shall have to ask thee, Fred, how to spend
it," said the captain, smiling.

"Then thou shalt spend it like a prince. Thou
shalt buy an estate in Kent, and a town-house
in Soho; thou shalt have horses, chariots,
lacqueys, liveries, wines, a pack of hounds, a box
at the Italian Opera—-"

"Of which I don't understand a word,'
interrupted the captain.

"A French cook, a private chaplain, a black
footboy, a suite of diamonds for thy wife, and for
thyself the prettiest mistress—-"

"Hold, Fred," interposed the captain again.
"None of the last, I beseech thee. My days of
gallantry are over."

"But, my dear brother, no man of quality—- "

"I'm not a man of quality," said the other.
"I'm a simple soldier, and the son of a plain
City merchant."

"Well, then, no man of parts and fortune—- "

"The fortune's not mine yet, Fred," said the
captain, dryly. "And as for my parts, why I
think the less said of them the better. I'm no
scholar, and that thou knowest as well as myself.
Hark! some one taps. Come in."

The door opened, and a bronzed upright man,
with something of a military bearing, came in.
He held his hat and cane in his hand, and saluted
the brothers courteously. It was Sir John
Pringle.

"Gentlemen," he said, gravely, "I grieve to be
the bearer of sad tidings."

The brothers rose in silence. Captain Trefalden
changed colour.

"Is he—is my father dead?" he faltered.

The physician bent his head.

Captain Trefalden turned his face away.
Frederick Trefalden took out his handkerchief,
and ostentatiously wiped away a tear—which was
not there.

"Dr. Ward is gone," said Sir John, after a
brief pause. "He desired his respects and
condolences. Gentlemen, I wish you a good
evening."

"You will take a glass of claret, Sir John?"
said Mr. Fred, pressing forward to the table.
But almost before he could say the words, the
physician had waved a civil negative, and was
gone. Mr. Fred shrugged his shoulders, filled
the glass all the same, and emptied it.

"Zounds, brother," said he, " 'tis of no use to
be melancholy. Remember thou'rt now the head
of the family. Let us go up-stairs, and read the
will."

In the mean time, William Trefalden, like a
methodical young man of business, had been up
to his father's room to find his father's keys, and
down to the counting-house to fetch his father's
deed-box out from the iron safe. When Mr.
Fred and the captain came into the room, they
found Lawyer Beavington with his spectacles on,
and the box before him.

"Gentlemen," he said, with calm importance,
"be pleased to sit."

So the brothers drew their chairs to the table,
and sat down; all silent; all somewhat agitated.

The man of law unlocked the box.

It was full of papers, leases, transfers, debentures,
agreements, bills of exchange, and so forth.
These had all to be taken out, opened, and laid
aside before the will turned up. That important
document lay at the very bottom, like hope at
the bottom of Pandora's casket.

"'Tis not a long will," observed Mr. Beavington,
with a preparatory cough.

As he unfolded it, a slip of paper fell out.

"A memorandum, apparently, in your
excellent father's own hand," said he, glancing
through it. "Hm—ha—refers to the amount of
his fortune. Have you, gentlemen, framed any
ideas of the extent of the property?"

"'Twas thought my father owned half a
million of money," replied Mr. Fred, eagerly.

"More than that," said the youngest son, with
a shake of the head.

"You are right, sir. The memorandum runs
thus: 'Upon a rough calculation, I believe I
may estimate my present estate at about five
hundred and twenty-five thousand pounds. (Dated)
January the first, Anno Domini seventeen hundred
and sixty. Jacob Trefalden.' A goodly fortune,
gentlemen—a goodly fortune!"

The three brothers drew a deep breath of
satisfaction.

"Five hundred and twenty-five thousand
pounds!" repeated the captain. "Prithee, Mr.
Beavington, proceed to the will."

The lawyer folded up the memorandum very
slowly, drew the candles nearer, wiped his
spectacles, and began.

"'IN the name of GOD, AMEN. I JACOB
TREFALDEN born in the town of Redruth
in the County of Cornwall and now a Citizen of
London, Merchant (a Widower) being at present
in good health of Body, and of sound and
disposing Mind and Memory, for which I bless
GOD, Do this eleventh day of January one
thousand seven hundred and sixty make and ordain
this my last Will and Testament in manner and
form following (that is to say) IMPRIMIS I
DESIRE to be interred in my Family Vault by
the side of my lately deceased wife and with as