on the sofa dejectedly enough, recalled to him that
he should be more subdued in the presence of such genuine grief. He
crossed the room to take Dorothy's hand solemnly.

"I didn't have an opportunity of shaking hands with you at the
cemetery."

"How do you do," she said rather absently.

"Pray accept my sincerest sympathy on your great bereavement."

Mrs. Wickham made an effort to bring her mind back from the
all-absorbing fear that possessed her.

"Of course the end was not entirely unexpected."

"No, I know. But it must have been a great shock, all the same."

He was going on to say what a wonderful old lady his late client had
been in that her faculties seemed perfectly unimpaired until the very
last, when Wickham interrupted him. Not only was he most anxious to hear
the will read himself and have it over, but he saw signs in his wife's
face and in the nervous manner in which she rolled and unrolled her
handkerchief, that she was nearing the end of her self-control, never
very great.

"My wife was very much upset, but of course my poor aunt had suffered
great pain, and we couldn't help looking upon it as a happy release."

"Naturally," responded the solicitor sympathetically. "And how is Miss
Marsh?" He was looking at James Wickham as he spoke, so that he missed
the sudden 'I told you so' glance which Mrs. Wickham flashed at her
husband.

"Oh, she's very well," she managed to say with a careless air.

"I'm glad to learn that she is not completely prostrated," said Mr.
Wynne warmly. "Her devotion to Miss Wickham was perfectly wonderful. Dr.
Evans--he's my brother-in-law, you know--told me no trained nurse could
have been more competent. She was like a daughter to Miss Wickham."

"I suppose we'd better send for her," said Mrs. Wickham coldly.

"Have you brought the----" Wickham stopped in embarrassment.

"Yes, I have it in my pocket," said the solicitor quickly. He had noted
before now how awkward people always were about speaking of wills.
There was nothing indelicate about doing so. Heavens, all right-minded
persons made their wills and they meant to have them read after they
were dead. Everybody knew that, and yet they always acted as if it were
indecent to approach the subject. He had no patience with such nonsense.

With an eloquent look at her husband, Mrs. Wickham slowly crossed the
room to the bell.

"I'll ring for Miss Marsh," she said in a hard voice.

"I expect Mr. Wynne would like a cu