ue to his troth?"

"We need search no more," said Mr. Ainslie. "The will is not in the
house. I should say it is not in existence, and that Mr. Grierson,
having changed his mind, had destroyed it."

"Not so," replied Rachel, "for a few minutes before his death he tried
to tell me where it was, but the name of the place died away upon his
tongue, and I could not catch it."

"Neither can we catch the deed," said Walter, with a laugh which had a
spice of irony in it.

And so the search was given up. The two searchers left the house,
apparently in close conversation. Rachel sought her room and threw
herself on a sofa, oppressed by doubts and fears which she could not
very well explain. The manner of Walter appeared to her not to be that
of one who was pledged to marry her. Her mind ran rapidly back over
doubtful reminiscences which yielded no comfort to the heart; nay, she
felt that he had never been as a lover to her; and far less that day
when, as it appeared, he was to be master of his uncle's wealth. Yet
again comes the thought, Was he pledged to her? Ay, that was certain
enough; and then she was so little versed in the subtle ways of the
world, that she could not doubt of his being "true to his troth."

As soon as she recovered from her meditation, she sought again the
workroom of the artist, to whom she told the issue of the search for the
will. Paul looked at first greatly struck, but under his strange
philosophy he recovered that calmness which belongs to those of his way
of thinking.

"Have I not often preached to you, Rachel," said he, as he lay back on
his chair, "that all these things were fixed ere Sirius was born? Yea,"
he added, as a smile played amid the seriousness of his face, "ere yet
there was a space for the dog-star to wag his tail. The croppings out
will now come thick, and you will know whether you are to be a lady or a
beggar."

Rachel might have known that the consolation offered by fatalists is
only the recommendation of a resignation which, as fated itself, is
gloomy, if not awful, for it amounts to an annihilation of self, with
all hopes, energies, and resolutions. She heard his words, and forgave
him, if she did not believe him; for she knew that he was true in his
friendship, and benevolent in his feelings--parts these, too, as he
would have said, of the decree. She left him in a condition of sadness
for which she could not yet account, and the hues of her mind seemed to
be projected