d and later,
it goes to my lost boy in the event of his recovery. Of course, you
and Florence are not forgotten, but the bulk of the property goes to
Harvey."

"I sincerely wish the boy might be restored to you," said Curtis; but
his tone belied his words. "Believe me, the loss of the property would
affect me little, if you could be made happy by realizing your warmest
desire; but, uncle, I think it only the part of a friend to point out
to you, as I have already done, the baselessness of any such
expectation."

"It may be as you say, Curtis," said his uncle, with a sigh. "If I
were thoroughly convinced of it, I would destroy the later will, and
leave my property absolutely to you and Florence."

"No, uncle," said Florence, impulsively, "make no change; let the will
stand."

Curtis, screened from his uncle's view, darted a glance of bitter
indignation at Florence.

"Is the girl mad?" he muttered to himself. "Must she forever balk me?"

"Let it be so for the present, then," said Mr. Linden, wearily.
"Curtis, will you ring the bell? I am tired, and shall retire to my
couch early."

"Let me help you, Uncle John," said Florence, eagerly.

"It is too much for your strength, my child. I am growing more and
more helpless."

"I, too, can help," said Curtis.

John Linden, supported on either side by his nephew and niece, left
the room, and was assisted to his chamber.

Curtis and Florence returned to the library.

"Florence," said her cousin, "my uncle's intentions, as expressed
to-night, make it desirable that there should be an understanding
between us. Take a seat beside me"--leading her to a sofa--"and let
us talk this matter over."

With a gesture of repulsion Florence declined the proffered seat, and
remained standing.

"As you please," she answered, coldly.

"Will you be seated?"

"No; our interview will be brief."

"Then I will come to the point. Uncle John wishes to see us united."

"It can never be!" said Florence, decidedly.

Curtis bit his lip in mortification, for her tone was cold and
scornful.

Mingled with this mortification was genuine regret, for, so far as he
was capable of loving any one, he loved his fair young cousin.

"You profess to love Uncle John, and yet you would disappoint his
cherished hope!" he returned.

"Is it his cherished hope?"

"There is no doubt about it. He has spoken to me more than once on the
subject. Feeling that his end is near, he wishes to leave you i