The lawyer and the parson seemed at a loss to comprehend the matter.
"Here must be some mistake," said the lawyer, "there is no will here."
"Oh," said Iron John, creaking forth his rusty jaws, "if it is a will
you are looking for, I believe I can find one."
He retired with the same singular smile with which he had greeted me on
my arrival, and which I now apprehended boded me no good. In a little
while he returned with a will perfect at all points, properly signed
and sealed and witnessed; worded with horrible correctness; in which he
left large legacies to Iron John and his daughter, and the residue of
his fortune to the foxy-headed boy; who, to my utter astonishment, was
his son by this very woman; he having married her privately; and, as I
verily believe, for no other purpose than to have an heir, and so baulk
my father and his issue of the inheritance. There was one little
proviso, in which he mentioned that having discovered his nephew to
have a pretty turn for poetry, he presumed he had no occasion for
wealth; he recommended him, however, to the patronage of his heir; and
requested that he might have a garret, rent free, in Doubting Castle.
Mr. Buckthorne had paused at the death of his uncle, and the downfall
of his great expectations, which formed, as he said, an epoch in his
history; and it was not until some little time afterwards, and in a
very sober mood, that he resumed his particolored narrative.
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