The words were spoken with gloom and with an attempt at commiseration
which no longer rang true in my ears.

"She is as sick a woman as I am myself," continued Mrs. Postlethwaite.
"That is why I made the remark I did, never imagining she would hear me
at that distance. Do not put her down. My nurse will be here in a moment
to relieve you of your burden."

A tinkle accompanied these words. The resolute woman had stretched out
a finger, of whose use she was not quite deprived, and touched a little
bell standing on the tray before her, an inch or two from her hand.

Pleased to obey her command, I paused at the sofa's edge, and taking
advantage of the momentary delay, studied the youthful countenance
pressed unconsciously to my breast.

It was one whose appeal lay less in its beauty, though that was of a
touching quality, than in the story it told,--a story, which for some
unaccountable reason--I did not pause to determine what one--I felt it
to be my immediate duty to know. But I asked no questions then; I did
not even venture a comment; and yielded her up with seeming readiness
when a strong but none too intelligent woman came running in with arms
outstretched to carry her off. When the door had closed upon these two,
the silence of my client drew my attention back to herself.

"I am waiting," was her quiet observation, and without any further
reference to what had just taken place under our eyes, she went on with
the business previously occupying us.

I was able to do my part without any too great display of my own
disturbance. The clearness of my remarkable client's instructions, the
definiteness with which her mind was made up as to the disposal of every
dollar of her vast property, made it easy for me to master each detail
and make careful note of every wish. But this did not prevent the ebb
and flow within me of an undercurrent of thought full of question and
uneasiness. What had been the real purport of the scene to which I had
just been made a surprised witness? The few, but certainly unusual,
facts which had been given me in regard to the extraordinary relations
existing between these two closely connected women will explain the
intensity of my interest. Those facts shall be yours.

Arabella Merwin, when young, was gifted with a peculiar fascination
which, as we have seen, had not altogether vanished with age.
Consequently she had many lovers, among them two brothers, Frank and
Andrew Postlethwaite. The la