w rich she was and how great, she would have
to leave the world with a naked, unclothed soul. She could not take any
of her great possessions with her, nor could she offer to her Maker a
single thing which would satisfy Him, when He made up the balance of her
account. She was frightened about herself.

"Bertha," she said to her young companion, "come here, Bertha."

Bertha bent over her.

"Is it true that I am not going to get better?"

"You are very ill," said Bertha; "you ought to make your will."

"But I have made it: what do you mean?"

"I thought," said Bertha, "that"--she paused, then she said gravely:
"you have not altered it since Maurice Trevor went away. I thought that
you had made up your mind that he and Florence Aylmer were not to
inherit your property."

"Of course I have," said the sick woman, a frightened, anxious look
coming into her eyes. "Not that it much matters," she added, after a
pause. "Florence is as good as another, and if Maurice really cares for
her----"

"Oh, impossible," said Bertha; "you know you do not wish all your
estates, your lands, your money, to pass into the hands of that wicked,
deceitful girl."

"I have heard," said Mrs. Aylmer, still speaking in that gasping voice,
"that Florence is doing great things for herself in London."

"What do you mean?"

"She is considered clever. She is writing very brilliantly. After all,
there is such a thing as literary fame, and if at the eleventh hour she
achieves it, why, she as well as another may inherit my wealth, and I am
too tired, Bertha, too tired to worry now."

"You know she must _not_ have your property!" said Bertha. "I will send
for Mr. Wiltshire: you said you would alter the will: it is only to add
a codicil to the last one, and the deed is done."

"As you please," said Mrs. Aylmer.

Bertha hurried away.

Mr. Wiltshire, Mrs. Aylmer's lawyer, lived in the nearest town, five
miles distant. Bertha wrote him a letter and sent a man on horseback to
his house. The lawyer arrived about nine o'clock that evening.

"You must see her at once: she may not live till the morning," said
Bertha. There was a pink spot on each of Bertha's cheeks, and her eyes
were very bright.

"I made my client's will six months ago. All her affairs are in perfect
order. What does this mean?" said Mr. Wiltshire.

"Mrs. Aylmer and I have had a long conversation lately, and I know Mrs.
Aylmer wants to alter her will," said Bertha. "Mr. Trevor ha