Mr. William Verheyst receives an Anonymous Letter.

By the same post the barrister, William Verheyst, received the following letter without a signature.

“Oh dear!” exclaimed the good-natured William, crumpling the anonymous letter in his fingers, “I fear this looks bad for Leopold. It will be hard lines if he has to forego the fortune which is thus dangled before his eyes like a bait on who knows what unreasonable conditions. I don’t like this attempt on the part of some unknown persons to bribe his adviser. However, they shall find I am not to be caught in the snare. If there be any clause in the will inconsistent with law and honesty or with honour, I’ll show them I have not been called to the bar to no purpose. Poor fellow, he little knows how difficult it is for me to leave home at present. Still, as I must go to the Hague before my departure to Java, I will set off early to-morrow.”

William Verheyst did as he said. He proved himself a true friend and no loiterer; caught his train, and five minutes after his arrival in the Hague was knocking at his friend’s door.

Leopold van Zonshoven occupied a single large front room in a quiet part of the town. He was too poor to live in a more fashionable quarter, and too honest to attempt living above his means. And yet there was an air of elegance about the room which marked it as that of a young man of refined tastes, and proved him to be a lover of home comforts rather than the pleasures of club life. To the ordinary furniture to be found in lodgings he had superadded a good writing-table, an easy-chair, an antique, carved book-case, and several small objects of art, which stood out in bold relief against the shabby wallpaper. This, however, he had tried to hide as much as possible by hanging the family portraits all round the room, some of them in solid ebony, others in gilt frames rather characteristic of this cheap, showy age. Even the space between the larger pictures he had tried to cover with small miniatures on ivory, and photographs. The young man had evidently done his best to surround himself by the portraits of his numerous family.

He was busily engaged at his writing-table when Verheyst knocked at his door.

“I was expecting you,” he said. “I knew you would come to help your friend in need. What a strange letter I wrote you! But now I have recovered my senses again.”

Then turning to his writing-table, he said—

“Look here, here’s a bundle of papers soaked with ink. Though my landlady, Mrs. Joosting, saved the lamp from falling on that memorable evening, she did not notice the ink-bottle. Three articles neatly copied, numbered and ready for the press, are utterly spoiled. Nothing for it but to copy them again. Pleasant work this for a millionaire! But I have almost finished now, and the work has done me good; we shall have the whole evening to talk matters over.”

Leopold lived, in fact, by his pen, contributing to several papers, and making translations for the publishers who patronized him. Though he had not kept his terms at the university, he had talent and style, and his writings had been very successful.

“Here are the documents: the lawyer’s letter, a copy of the will, the inventory of all effects, both personal and real estate; and all, so far as I can judge, in perfect order.”

After a minute examination, piece by piece, Verheyst answered that he was of the same opinion.

“But,” he said, “I cannot find the fatal clause you mentioned, anywhere.”

“In truth, there is no such clause expressed; nor is there even a condition set down. But there is a desire, a hope expressed in this letter from my aunt; and you must read it before giving your opinion. It seems to me I must renounce the inheritance if I cannot give effect to the wish you will find set down here.”

“Is it, then, such a difficult matter?” inquired Verheyst, before opening the letter.

“Oh, that depends! My aunt wishes me to marry.”

“No unfair request, since she puts you in a position to maintain a wife.”

“I agree; but she has gone further and chosen a wife for me.”

“The deuce! that’s the worst part of the business.”

“Certainly; for she does not seem to have been acquainted with the young lady herself, who seems to be a granddaughter of a certain General von Zwenken, who married my aunt’s eldest sister. The young lady is at present living with her grandfather; and it would seem that my shrewd old aunt, to be revenged on the General, has hit upon this means of leaving her fortune to her niece and shutting out the rest of the family from any share in it. Consequently I am made use of, and the fortune is placed in my hands with instructions to hasten to lay it at the feet of this ‘fair lady.’ Nothing seems easier or more natural. But suppose the ‘fair lady’ should be ugly, hunchbacked, a shrew, or a troublesome coquette. In this case, you know, with my ideas about women and marriage, I should feel myself bound to refuse the fortune.”

“Refuse! refuse!—at the worst you can propose to divide it between you.”

“Now that would be acting in direct opposition to the express and formal wish of the testatrix. Read the letter and you will see.”