"Impossible!" said my mother, in evident astonishment; and seeing that,
at all events, she was unacquainted with the circumstance, I said no
more.

The will was to be read in the little room where my uncle had been
accustomed to sit. I felt it as a sacrilege to his memory to choose
that spot for such an office, but I said nothing. Gerald and my mother,
the lawyer (a neighbouring attorney, named Oswald), and myself were the
only persons present. Mr. Oswald hemmed thrice, and broke the seal.
After a preliminary, strongly characteristic of the testator, he came to
the disposition of the estates. I had never once, since my poor uncle's
death, thought upon the chances of his will; indeed, knowing myself so
entirely his favourite, I could not, if I had thought upon them, have
entertained a doubt as to their result. What then was my astonishment
when, couched in terms of the strongest affection, the whole bulk of the
property was bequeathed to Gerald; to Aubrey the sum of forty, to myself
that of twenty thousand pounds (a capital considerably less than the
yearly income of my uncle's princely estates), was allotted. Then
followed a list of minor bequests,--to my mother an annuity of three
thousand a year, with the privilege of apartments in the house during
her life; to each of the servants legacies sufficient for independence;
to a few friends, and distant connections of the family, tokens of the
testator's remembrance,--even the horses to his carriage, and the dogs
that fed from his menials' table, were not forgotten, but were to be set
apart from work, and maintained in indolence during their remaining span
of life. The will was concluded: I could not believe my senses; not a
word was said as a reason for giving Gerald the priority.

I rose calmly enough. "Suffer me, Sir," said I to the lawyer, "to