There was still a residue of personal property as well as the land, but the whole was left to one person, and that person was—­ O possibilities!  O expectations founded on the favor of “close” old gentlemen!  O endless vocatives that would still leave expression slipping helpless from the measurement of mortal folly!—­ that residuary legatee was Joshua Rigg, who was also sole executor, and who was to take thenceforth the name of Featherstone.

There was a rustling which seemed like a shudder running round the room.  Every one stared afresh at Mr. Rigg, who apparently experienced no surprise.

“A most singular testamentary disposition!” exclaimed Mr. Trumbull, preferring for once that he should be considered ignorant in the past.  “But there is a second will—­there is a further document.  We have not yet heard the final wishes of the deceased.”

Mary Garth was feeling that what they had yet to hear were not the final wishes.  The second will revoked everything except the legacies to the low persons before mentioned (some alterations in these being the occasion of the codicil), and the bequest of all the land lying in Lowick parish with all the stock and household furniture, to Joshua Rigg.  The residue of the property was to be devoted to the erection and endowment of almshouses for old men, to be called Featherstone’s Alms-Houses, and to be built on a piece of land near Middlemarch already bought for the purpose by the testator, he wishing—­so the document declared—­to please God Almighty.  Nobody present had a farthing; but Mr. Trumbull had the gold-headed cane.  It took some time for the company to recover the power of expression.  Mary dared not look at Fred.

Mr. Vincy was the first to speak—­after using his snuff-box energetically—­and he spoke with loud indignation.  “The most unaccountable will I ever heard!  I should say he was not in his right mind when he made it.  I should say this last will was void,” added Mr. Vincy, feeling that this expression put the thing in the true light.  “Eh Standish?”

“Our deceased friend always knew what he was about, I think,” said Mr. Standish.  “Everything is quite regular.  Here is a letter from Clemmens of Brassing tied with the will.  He drew it up.  A very respectable solicitor.”

“I never noticed any alienation of mind—­any aberration of intellect in the late Mr. Featherstone,” said Borthrop Trumbull, “but I call this will eccentric.  I was always willingly of service to the old soul; and he intimated pretty plainly a sense of obligation which would show itself in his will.  The gold-headed cane is farcical considered as an acknowledgment to me; but happily I am above mercenary considerations.”

“There’s nothing very surprising in the matter that I can see,” said Caleb Garth.  “Anybody might have had more reason for wondering if the will had been what you might expect from an open-minded straightforward man.  For my part, I wish there was no such thing as a will.”