He declared his
belief, that nothing but the foulest means that might be resorted to by
interested and bigotted monks, could have extorted such a will from the
dying man,--his readiness to attest, in every court in Spain, the
intentions of the testator (till within a few hours of his death) to
have bequeathed his whole fortune to his family,--intentions which he
had repeatedly expressed to him and others, and to whose effect he had
seen a former will of no long date,--and, finally, gave his strenuous
advice to Walberg to bring the matter to legal arbitration, in aid of
which he promised his personal exertions, his influence with the ablest
advocates in Seville, and every thing--but money. “The family that night went to bed with spirits exalted by hope, and
slept in peace. One circumstance alone marked a change in their feelings
and habits. As they were retiring, the old man laid his tremulous hand
on the shoulder of Walberg, and said mildly, “My son, shall we pray
before we retire?”--“Not to-night, father,” said Walberg, who perhaps
feared the mention of their heretical worship might alienate the
friendly priest, or who felt the agitation of his heart too great for
the solemn exercise; “Not to-night, I am--too happy!”

“The priest was as good as his word,--the ablest advocates in Seville
undertook the cause of Walberg. Proofs of undue influence, of
imposition, and of terror being exercised on the mind of the testator,
were ingeniously made out by the diligence and spiritual authority of
the priest, and skilfully arranged and ably pleaded by the advocates. Walberg’s spirits rose with every hour. The family, at the time of
Guzman’s death, were in possession of a considerable sum of money, but
this was soon expended, together with another sum which the frugality of
Ines had enabled her to save, and which she now cheerfully produced in
aid of her husband’s exigencies, and in confidence of eventual success. When all was gone, other resources still remained,--the spacious house
was disposed of, the servants dismissed, the furniture sold (as usual)
for about a fourth of its value, and, in their new and humble abode in
the suburbs of Seville, Ines and her daughters contentedly resumed those
domestic duties which they had been in the habit of performing in their
quiet home in Germany. Amid these changes, the grandfather and
grandmother experienced none but mere change of place, of which they
hardly appeared conscious. The assiduous attention of Ines to their
comforts was increased, not diminished, by the necessity of being
herself the sole ministrant to them; and smiling she pleaded want of
appetite, or trifling indisposition, as an excuse for her own and her
children’s meal, while theirs was composed of every thing that could
tempt the tasteless palate of age, or that she remembered was acceptable
to theirs. “The cause had now come to a hearing, and for the two first days the
advocates of Walberg carried all before them. On the third the
ecclesiastical advocates made a firm and vigorous stand. Walberg
returned much dispirited;--his wife saw it, and therefore assumed no
airs of cheerfulness, which only increase the irritation of misfortune,
but she was equable, and steadily and tranquilly occupied in domestic
business the whole evening in his sight. As they were separating for the
night, by a singular contingency, the old man again reminded his son of
the forgotten hour of family prayer. “Not to-night, father,” said
Walberg impatiently; “not to-night; I am--too unhappy!”--“Thus,” said
the old man, lifting up his withered hands, and speaking with an energy
he had not showed for years,--“thus, O my God! prosperity and adversity
alike furnish us with excuses for neglecting thee!” As he tottered from
the room, Walberg declined his head on the bosom of his wife, who sat
beside him, and shed a few bitter tears. And Ines whispered to herself,
“The sacrifice of God is a troubled spirit,--a broken heart he will not
despise.” * * * * * *

“The cause had been carried on with a spirit and expedition that had no
precedent in the courts of Spain, and the fourth day was fixed on for a
final hearing and termination of the cause. The day dawned, and at the
dawn of day Walberg arose, and walked for some hours before the gates of
the hall of justice; and when they were opened, he entered, and sat down
mechanically on a seat in the vacant hall, with the same look of
profound attention, and anxious interest, that he would have assumed had
the court been seated, and the cause about to be decided. After a few
moment’s pause, he sighed, started, and appearing to awake from a dream,
quitted his seat, and walked up and down the empty passages till the
court was prepared to sit. “The court met early that day, and the cause was powerfully advocated. Walberg sat on one seat, without ever changing his place, till all was
over; and it was then late in the evening, and he had taken no
refreshment the entire day, and he had never changed his place, and he
had never changed the close and corrupted atmosphere of the crowded
court for a moment. Quid multis morer? The chance of a heretic stranger,
against the interests of churchmen in Spain, may be calculated by the
most shallow capacity. “The family had all that day sat in the innermost room of their humble
dwelling. Everhard had wished to accompany his father to the court,--his
mother withheld him. The sisters involuntarily dropt their work from
time to time, and their mother gently reminded them of the necessity of
renewing it. They did resume it, but their hands, at variance with their
feelings, made such blunders, that their mother, δακρυοεν γελασασα,
removed their work, and suggested to them some active employment in
household affairs. While they were thus engaged, evening came on,--the
family from time to time suspended their ordinary occupations, and
crowded to the window to watch the return of their father. Their mother
no longer interfered,--she sat in silence, and this silence formed a
strong contrast to the restless impatience of her children. “That is my
father,” exclaimed the voices of the four at once, as a figure crossed
the street. “That is not my father,” they repeated, as the figure
slowly retired. A knock was heard at the door,--Ines herself rushed
forward to open it. A figure retreated, advanced again, and again
retreated. Then it seemed to rush past her, and enter the house like
a shadow. In terror she followed it, and with terror unutterable saw
her husband kneeling among his children, who in vain attempted to raise
him, while he continued to repeat, “No, let me kneel,--let me kneel, I
have undone you all!