Mrs. Lawson drew some hope from his last words, and she turned away her head to hide the joy which shone on her face.

In a few days the old man became seriously ill, and was altogether confined to his room.  As death evidently approached, his mind became serene and calm, and he received the attentions which Mrs. Lawson and his son lavished on him with a silent composure, which led them to hope that he had completely forgotten their previous conduct to him.

The night on which he died, he turned to his son, and said a few words, a very few words, regarding worldly matters.  He exhorted Henry to live in a somewhat less expensive style, and to cultivate a spirit of contentment without riches; then he blessed God that he was entering on a world in which he could hear no more of money or earthly possession.  He remained in a calm sleep during the greater part of the night, they thought, but in the morning they found him dead.

The funeral was over, and the time was come in which the old man’s will was to be opened.  Mrs. Lawson had waited for that moment—­she would have forcibly dragged time onward to that moment—­she had execrated the long hours of night since the old man’s death—­she had still more anathemized the slowly passing days, when gazing furtively through a corner of the blinded window, she saw fine equipages and finely-dressed ladies passing, and she planned how she would shine when the old man’s wealth would be her own.  She drew glorious mental pictures of how she would burst from behind the shadowing cloud of poverty, and dazzle all her acquaintances.  Her dress, her carriage, her style of living would be unique in her rank of life for taste and costliness.  She would show them she had got money—­money at last—­more money than they all.

Now at last she sat and saw the will being opened; she felt that it was a mere formality, for the old man had none but them to whom he could leave his money; she never once doubted but all would be theirs; she had reasoned and fancied herself into the firm conviction.  Her only fear was, that the amount might not be so large as she calculated on.

She saw the packet opened.  Her eyes dilated, her lips became parched, her heart and brain burned with a fierce eagerness—­money! money at last! uttered the griping spirit within her.

The will, after beginning in the usual formal style, was as follows: 

“I bequeath to my son Henry’s wife, Augusta Lawson, a high and noble gift”—­Mrs. Lawson almost sprung from her seat with eagerness—­“the greatest of all legacies, I bequeath to Augusta Lawson—­Charity!  Augusta Lawson refused me a few shillings which I wished to bestow on a starving woman; but now I leave her joint executrix, with my son Henry, in the distribution of all my money and all my effects, without any reservation, in charity, to be applied to such charitable purposes as in this, my last will and testament, I have directed.”