Mary Erskine by Jacob Abbott (ereader iphone .txt) 📕

could not write, not even to sign her name. He determined, therefore, to make a will, and give all his property, of every kind, absolutely to her. This he did, in the manner described in the last chapter.

The law invests every man with a very absolute power in respect to his property, authorizing him to make any disposition of it whatever, and carrying faithfully into effect, after his death, any wish that he may have expressed in regard to it, as his deliberate and final intention. It insists, however, that there should be evidence that the wish, so expressed, is really a deliberate and final act. It is not enough that the man should say in words what his wishes are. The will must be in writing, and it must be signed; or if the sick man can not write, he must make some mark with the pen, at the bottom of the paper, to stand instead of a signature, and to show that he considers the act, which he is performing, as a solemn and binding transaction. Nor will it do to have the will executed in the presence of only one witness; for if that were allowed, designing persons would sometimes persuade a sick man, who was rich, to sign a will which they themselves had written, telling him, perhaps, that it was only a receipt, or some other unimportant paper, and thus inducing him to convey his property in a way that he did not intend. The truth is, that there is necessity for a much greater degree of precautionary form, in the execution of a will, than in almost any other transaction; for as the man himself will be dead and gone when the time comes for carrying the will into effect, and so can not give any explanation of his designs, it is necessary to make them absolutely clear and certain, independently of him. It was, accordingly, the law, in the state where Mary Erskine lived, that there should be three witnesses present, when any person signed a will; and also that when signing the paper, the man should say that he knew that it was his will. If three credible persons thus attested the reality and honesty of the transaction, it was thought sufficient, in all ordinary cases, to make it sure.

Albert, it seems, was not aware how many witnesses were required. When he requested Mrs. Bell to sign his will, as witness, he thought that he was doing all that was necessary to make it valid. When, however, Mrs. Bell, afterwards, in going home, met Mr. Keep and related to him the transaction, he said that he was afraid that the will was not good, meaning that it would not stand in law.

The thought that the will was probably not valid, caused Mrs. Bell a considerable degree of anxiety and concern, as she imagined that its failure would probably cause Mary Erskine a considerable degree of trouble and embarrassment, though she did not know precisely how. She supposed that the children's share of the property must necessarily be kept separate and untouched until they grew up, and that in the mean time their mother would have to work very hard in order to maintain herself and them too. But this is not the law. The guardian of children, in such cases, is authorized to expend, from the children's share of property, as much as is necessary for their maintenance while they are children; and it is only the surplus, if there is any, which it is required of her to pay over to them, when they come of age. It would be obviously unjust, in cases where children themselves have property left them by legacy, or falling to them by inheritance, to compel their father or mother to toil ten or twenty years to feed and clothe them, in order that they might have their property, whole and untouched, when they come of age. All that the law requires is that the property bequeathed to children, or falling to them by inheritance, shall always be exactly ascertained, and an account of it put upon record in the Probate office: and then, that a guardian shall be appointed, who shall expend only so much of it, while the children are young, as is necessary for their comfortable support and proper education; and then, when they come of age, if there is any surplus left, that it shall be paid over to them. In Mary Erskine's case, these accounts would, of course, cause her some trouble, but it would make but little difference in the end.

Mrs. Bell spent a great deal of time, during the day, in trying to think what it would be best for Mary Erskine to do, and also in trying to think what she could herself do for her. She, however, made very little progress in respect to either of those points. It seemed to her that Mary Erskine could not move into the new house, and attempt to carry on the farm, and, on the other hand, it appeared equally out of the question for her to remain where she was, in her lonesome log cabin. She might move into the village, or to some house nearer the village, but what should she do in that case for a livelihood. In a word, the more that Mrs. Bell reflected upon the subject, the more at a loss she was.

She determined to go and see Mary Erskine after dinner, again, as the visit would at least be a token of kindness and sympathy, even if it should do no other good. She arrived at the house about the middle of the afternoon. She found Mary Erskine busily at work, putting the house in order, and rectifying the many derangements which sickness and death always occasion. Mary Erskine received Mrs. Bell at first with a cheerful smile, and seemed, to all appearance, as contented and happy as usual. The sight of Mrs. Bell, however, recalled forcibly to her mind her irremediable loss, and overwhelmed her heart, again, with bitter grief. She went to the window, where her little work-table had been placed, and throwing herself down in a chair before it, she crossed her arms upon the table, laid her forehead down upon them in an attitude of despair, and burst into tears.

Mrs. Bell drew up toward her and stood by her side in silence. She pitied her with all her heart, but she did not know what to say to comfort her.

Just then little Bella came climbing up the steps, from the stoop, with some flowers in her hand, which she had gathered in the yard. As soon as she had got up into the room she stood upon her feet and went dancing along toward the baby, who was playing upon the floor, singing as she danced. She gave the baby the flowers, and then, seeing that her mother was in trouble, she came up toward the place and stood still a moment, with a countenance expressive of great concern. She put her arm around her mother's neck, saying in a very gentle and soothing tone,

"Mother! what is the matter, mother?"

Mary Erskine liberated one of her arms, and clasped Bella with it fondly, but did not raise her head, or answer.

"Go and get some flowers for your mother," said Mrs. Bell, "like those which you got for the baby."

"Well," said Bella, "I will." So she turned away, and went singing and dancing out of the room.

"Mary," said Mrs. Bell. "I wish that you would shut up this house and take the children and come to my house, at least for a while, until you can determine what to do."

Mary Erskine shook her head, but did not reply. She seemed, however, to be regaining her composure. Presently she raised her head, smoothed down her hair, which was very soft and beautiful, readjusted her dress, and sat up, looking out at the window.

"If you stay here," continued Mrs. Bell, "you will only spend your time in useless and hopeless grief."

"No," said Mary Erskine, "I am not going to do any such a thing."

"Have you begun to think at all what you shall do?" asked Mrs. Bell.

"No," said Mary Erskine. "When any great thing happens, I always have to wait a little while till I get accustomed to knowing that it has happened, before I can determine what to do about it. It seems as if I did not more than half know yet, that Albert is dead. Every time the door opens I almost expect to see him come in."

"Do you think that you shall move to the new house?" asked Mrs. Bell.

"No," said Mary Erskine, "I see that I can't do that. I don't wish to move there, either, now."

"There's one thing," continued Mrs. Bell after a moment's pause, "that perhaps I ought to tell you, though it is rather bad news for you. Mr. Keep says that he is afraid that the will, which Albert made, is not good in law."

"Not good! Why not?" asked Mary Erskine.

"Why because there is only one witness The law requires that there should be three witnesses, so as to be sure that Albert really signed the will."

"Oh no," said Mary Erskine. "One witness is enough, I am sure. The Judge of Probate knows you, and he will believe you as certainly as he would a dozen witnesses."

"But I suppose," said Mrs. Bell, "that it does not depend upon the Judge of Probate. It depends upon the law."

Mary Erskine was silent. Presently she opened her drawer and took out the will and looked at it mysteriously. She could not read a word of it.

"Read it to me, Mrs. Bell," said she, handing the paper to Mrs. Bell.

Mrs. Bell read as follows:


"I bequeath all my property to my wife, Mary Erskine. Albert
Forester. Witness, Mary Bell."


"I am sure that is all right," said Mary Erskine. "It is very plain, and one witness is enough. Besides, Albert would know how it ought to be done."

"But then," she continued after a moment's pause, "he was very sick and feeble. Perhaps he did not think. I am sure I shall be very sorry if it is not a good will, for if I do not have the farm and the stock, I don't know what I shall do with my poor children."

Mary Erskine had a vague idea that if the will should prove invalid, she and her children would lose the property, in some way or other, entirely, though she did not know precisely how. After musing upon this melancholy prospect a moment she asked,

"Should not I have any of the property, if the will proves not to be good?"

"Oh yes," said Mrs. Bell, "you will have a considerable part of it, at any rate."

"How much?" asked Mary Erskine.

"Why about half, I believe," replied Mrs. Bell.

"Oh," said Mary Erskine, apparently very much relieved. "That will do very well. Half will be enough. There is a great deal of property. Albert told me that the farm and the new house are worth five hundred dollars, and the stock is worth full three hundred more. And Albert does not owe any thing at all."

"Well," said Mrs. Bell. "You will have half. Either half or a third, I forget exactly which."

"And what becomes of the rest?" asked Mary Erskine.

"Why the rest goes to the children," said Mrs. Bell.

"To the children!"