call Brown. I have a little business paper to write, and you must both
witness my signature." She laughed to herself a little as she said this,
thinking how she would steel a march on Mr. Furnival. "I give, and
bequeath," she said to herself playfully, after Jervis had hurried away.
She fully intended to leave both of these good servants something, but
then she recollected that people who are interested in a will cannot sign
as witnesses. "What does it matter?" she said to herself gayly; "If it
ever should be wanted, Mary would see to that." Accordingly she dashed
off, in her pretty, old-fashioned handwriting, which was very angular and
pointed, as was the fashion in her day, and still very clear, though
slightly tremulous, a few lines, in which, remembering playfully Mr.
Furnival's recommendation of "few words," she left to little Mary all she
possessed, adding, by the prompting of that recollection about the
witnesses, "She will take care of the servants." It filled one side only
of the large sheet of notepaper, which was what Lady Mary habitually
used. Brown, introduced timidly by Jervis, and a little overawed by the
solemnity of the bedchamber, came in and painted solidly his large
signature after the spidery lines of his mistress. She had folded down
the paper, so that neither saw what it was.

"Now I will go to bed," Lady Mary said, when Brown had left the room.
"And Jervis, you must go to bed too."

"Yes, my lady," said Jervis.

"I don't approve of courtship at this hour."

"No, my lady," Jervis replied, deprecating and disappointed.

"Why cannot he tell his tale in daylight?"