the floor amid the peanut-shells and
orange-skins of the earlier travellers. There was an impressive silence,
then an animated, terse, and shockingly expressive conversation. Only a
dozen or more sat with drawn faces and white lips. They were the
dwellers by the lake. Hiram Webster had left every cent of his large
fortune to his sister.

For two weeks Webster Lake did not call on the heiress. It was too sore.
At the end of that period philosophy and decency came to the rescue.
Moreover, cupidity: Miss Webster too must make a will, and before long.

They called. Miss Webster received them amiably. Her eyes were red, but
the visitors observed that her mourning was very rich; they had never
seen richer. They also remarked that she held her gray old head with a
loftiness that she must have acquired in the past two weeks; no one of
them had ever seen it before. She did not exactly patronize them; but
that she appreciated her four millions there could be no doubt.

Strowbridge glanced about in search of Miss Williams. She was not in the
room. He sauntered out to the garden and saw her coming from the dairy.
She wore a black alpaca frock and a dark apron. Her face was weary and
sad.

"Could any one look more hopeless!" he thought. "The selfish old
curmudgeon, not to leave her independent! How her face can light up! She
looks almost young."

For she had seen him and hastened down the path. As he asked after her
health and said that he had been looking for her, she smiled and flushed
a little. They sat down on the steps and chatted until approaching
voices warned them that both pleasure and duty were over. She found
herself admitting that she had been bitterly disappointed to learn that
she was still a dependant, still chained to the gloomy mansion by the
lake. Yes; she should like to travel, to go to places she had read of in
the doctor's library--to live. She flushed with shame later when she
reflected on her confidences--she who was so proudly reticent. And to a
stranger! But she had never met any one so sympathetic.

Many were the comments of the visitors as they drove away.

"Upon my word!" exclaimed Mrs. Holt; "I do believe Marian Webster will
become stuck-up in her old age."

"Four millions are a good excuse," said Mrs. Meeker, with a sigh.

"That dress did not cost a cent under three hundred dollars," remarked a
third, with energy. "And it was tried on four times, if it was once. She
is evidently open to conso