y to-night?" said Mr. Moreland, as he
shook hands with me. "We shall be there to-morrow morning. You will make
what arrangements seem best to you over the funeral."

So I went away, the most bewildered man in London. As I re-entered the
office I felt ashamed of my suspicions over my fellow-clerks. They were
all busy, while I--oh, heaven! could it be true?

Mr. Lawson evidently thought I had been drinking when I went, white and
stammering, confused and hesitating, into his room. He looked very
sternly at me.

"What do you want, Mr. Trevelyan? I am very busy."

I took out the letter again and laid it before him.

"Will you read that, sir?" I asked, "It will make you understand more
quickly than I can, I am so confused."

He read it, then held out his hand to me.

"I congratulate you," he said. "Your poor father, the last time I saw
him, spoke to me of his rich cousin. He never expected this. Sir Barnard
had two fine, strong, healthy sons of his own then."

"My father could not have expected it less than myself. I have hardly
ever heard the name of Crown Anstey, and did not know that it was
entailed property. I shall have to ask you to let me go this afternoon,
sir."

He was perfectly willing, I was only at the office an hour, yet the news
seemed to have spread. I promised the clerks a dinner when I returned,
then once more I stood in the street, alone.

My brain was dizzy, my thoughts in a whirl. I remember taking a cab and
driving to a shop into which I had often looked with longing eyes. I
bought wine, grapes, peaches, flowers, dainty jellies--everything that I
thought most likely to please my sister--and then drove home. I had
resolved that I would not tell my good fortune to Clare all at once,
lest there should be some fatal mistake unforeseen by any one. She
looked up astonished when I entered the room, my arms full of fruit and
flowers.

"Oh, Edgar!" she cried, "you have ruined yourself. Why you must have
spent your whole week's money!"

I forgot now what fiction I told here--something of a friend of my
father, who had left me a little money, and that I was going away that
same evening on business.

"Shall you be long?" she asked, with so sad a face I did not like to
leave her.

"Two or three days at the outside," I told her. Then I took twenty
golden sovereigns from my purse and laid them before her, begging her
not to want for anything while I was away.

She looked almost alarmed at such a quan