L. (his aunt's maiden initials), whence his needles and thread
used to come for his mending work. An old, worn pencil-case kept for
his mother's sake--for Alice was on the seal--was the only thing I
could rescue; but next there came an envelope with "My will" scrawled
on it. Mr. Yolland thought I ought to open it, to see who had
authority to act, and it proved that we alone had, for he was made
executor, with L1,000. A favourite rifle was bequeathed to Eustace,
an annuity of L50 to Smith, and all the rest of the property was to
be shared between Dora and me. It was in the fewest words, not at
all in form, but all right, and fully witnessed. It was in the dear
handwriting, and was dated on the sad lonely Saturday when he felt
himself sickening. The other things were accounts and all my
letters, most of which could follow the fate of all that he had
touched in those last days. However, the visit was a comfort to me.
George Yolland answered my questions, and told me much more than poor
Dermot could do in his stupefaction from grief, fatigue, and illness,
even if I then could have understood.
He told me of the grief shown by all Mycening and Arghouse, and of
the sobbing and weeping of mothers and children, who went in a broken
pilgrimage on Sunday afternoon to the grave at Arghouse, of the
throngs at the church and the hush, like a sob held back, when the
text was given out: "Thanks be to Him who giveth us the victory
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
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