cousin came forward to impeach the will as obtained by undue influence, and a speculative solicitor was found "to take it up." Then was illustrated what is called by good-natured courtesy "the glorious," but which should rather be termed the scandalous, uncertainty of the law. One learned judge, after interminable evidence had been taken under the old system of interrogatories, declared for the will. "The delegates" were appealed to, and reversed their brother's—a delegate himself—opinion. They then turned to the chancellor, and he reversed that of the delegates, and ordered a review of the whole matter, which, after a litigation of many years, ended in favour of the spirited, unconquerable, and unconquered Mrs. Kelly.
But before this result, there entered into the case what to the spectator is a bit of grotesque comedy, but what to the actors must have been a rather dismal piece of tragedy. The claimant was an elderly Miss Thewles, and amid the congratulations of her first success, a young and enterprising solicitor was encouraged by his friends to push his advances with the lady; and he prosecuted the matter with such spirit that his efforts were crowned with success. At this stage matters were considered to look very doubtful indeed, for the widow, and her best friends advised a compromise. She was quite willing, and a friend was entrusted with the negotiation, to whose credit she had first lodged a sum of no less than twenty thousand pounds. But she had now to deal with the new bridegroom, flushed with victory in the different fields of love and law, and he disdainfully declined not merely the sum offered, but even to treat at all upon the subject. The end was that he lost everything, was all but ruined, and went away to the colonies, leaving his elderly bride behind. But everybody in this case was to behave strangely. When the compromise failed, the ambassador turned round upon his patroness, and protested this twenty thousand pounds was a gift, that he was a donee, not a trustee, and an action had to be taken against him to make him disgorge; which action strangely, like everything else connected with this business, failed, and he was enabled to retain it.
The last act now begins. Thus successful, this strong-minded and intrepid woman settled herself down to enjoy her power and her wealth, which was now said to amount to about ten thousand pounds a year, with some quarter of a million in money. She had estates in various counties in Ireland; she had her town houses in London, Dublin, and Brighton. She superintended everything herself. She gradually found out, and gathered about her various English relations, for all of whom she proposed "doing something," establishing nephews in life, and pushing them forward. One of these, a young man named Strevans, she had made her agent over a portion of her property; but he was a wild debauched youth, and she was disheartened and scandalised by his excesses. Round her gathered strange creatures, vulture like, waiting for the day when they should all be taken care of, for she was known to have made her will—"shady" attorneys chiefly, who gave her their doubtful help in the management of her affairs. Among these birds of prey raged secret jealousies and hatreds, and between one of them named Campion and the wild Strevans was a special animosity, founded on the former's protection of his patroness's interest, which he affected to believe was seriously damaged by the young man's behaviour. Even the inferior beings who were dependent on her—the stewards and labourers—seem to have been a lawless and disreputable set.
It came to the month of April, 1856, and she was down at her Westmeath estate, giving large employment to women and men, and preparing to build yet another mansion-house there. With her was the nephew, and the attorney Campion, who came down occasionally to look over the accounts. His jealous eye had discovered that the young man had not duly accounted for all the moneys that passed through his hands; and some recent excesses, which had been talked of, had fairly disgusted her. Her will was made in a truly businesslike and satisfactory way, and its contents were pretty well known. Her estates she had divided fairly among her friends and relatives, taking care of every one in some shape. The nephew was given a small estate, and the attorney was provided for. She was determined to have these little defalcations ascertained: not from the sense of their loss, but, it would seem, as a matter of justice and fact, and intended using it as a lever to force her nephew to become steady, to marry, settle down, and accept an allowance from her in lieu of greater expectations.
The attorney went diligently through all the accounts, and on the last day of his stay was able to fix the loss at about three hundred pounds. She showed no displeasure, but the young man knew what her plans were. On the ninth of April they all three dined together at two o'clock, and after dinner the lawyer retired to finish his accounts. When the day was declining, towards five o'clock, Mrs. Kelly and her nephew walked down to look at the labourers. The house was on an elevated ground, whence all the fields sloped down. They walked towards the field, where there was a busy scene—a number of women and girls gathering up the stones and clearing the ground. This field was entered by a stile, and had a long wall running by one side of it. She directed these operations herself, and was talking to a girl named Bryan, when the last scene in Sarah Birch's most dramatic life set in.
Her nephew had walked away a little distance to speak to some of the workers, when attention was attracted to two very tall and masculine women, who had just got over the stile. They were dressed in long blue cloaks, with their faces muffled in crape, and came leisurely towards the mistress of the estate. The workers by whom they passed knew at once, by their stride and strange look, that they were men disguised in women's clothes. A sense as of
