written
out in her own round, upright, old-fashioned hand. "It's an old woman's
whim; but if you don't like it, it shan't stand. Nobody knows of it, and
nobody'll be disappointed. I had a longing to leave some kind of a happy
life behind me, if I could, in the Old House. It's only an earthly
clinging and hankering, maybe; but I'd somehow like to feel sure, being
the last of the line, that there'd be time for my bones to crumble away
comfortably into dust, before the old timbers should come down. I meant,
once, you should have had it all; but it seemed as if you wasn't going
to _need_ it, and as if there was going to be other kind of work cut out
for you to do. And I'm persuaded there is yet, somewhere. So I've done
this; and I want you to know it beforehand, in case anything goes
wrong--no, not that, but unexpectedly--with me."

She reached out the paper, and Faith took it from her hand. It was not
long in reading.

A light shone out of Faith's eyes, through the tears that sprang to
them, as she finished it, and gave it back.

"Aunt Faith!" she said, earnestly. "It is beautiful! I am so glad! But,
auntie! You'll get well, I know, and begin it yourself!"

"No," said Miss Henderson, quietly. "I may get over this, and I don't
say I shouldn't be glad to. But I'm an old tree, and the ax is lying,
ground, somewhere, that's to cut me down before very long. Old folks
can't change their ways, and begin new plans and doings. I'm only
thankful that the Lord has sent me a thought that lightens all the dread
I've had for years about leaving the old place; and that I can go,
thinking maybe there'll be His work doing in it as long as it stands."

"I don't know," she resumed, after a pause, "how your father's affairs
are now. The likelihood is, if he has any health, that he'll go into
some kind of a venture again before very long. But I shall have a talk
with him, and if he isn't satisfied I'll alter it so as to do something
more for you."

"Something more!" said Faith. "But you have done a great deal, as it is!
I didn't say so, because I was thinking so much of the other."

"It won't make an heiress of you," said Aunt Faith. "But it'll be better
than nothing, if other means fall short. And I don't feel, somehow, as
if you need be a burden on my mind. There's a kind of a certainty borne
in on me, otherwise. I can't help thinking that what I've done has been
a leading. And if it has, it's right. Now, put this back, and tell Miss