the corpse, rendering the pale
features more ghastly to look on than the convulsions had left them.
Mrs. Fraudhurst was a woman of strong mind, but no feeling, and the
presence of death had no terrors for her. She had entered, prepared in
her own mind for the spectacle that now presented itself. Her plans had
been already arranged, but she had hardly counted on their being so
easily executed. With a firm hand she took up the will and unfinished
codicil, folded them, and placed them carefully in the bosom of her
dress. She now took up the bunch of keys, and replacing the centre
drawer, locked it and dropped the bunch of keys into one of the pockets
of Sir Jasper's dressing gown, and finding that the open letter related
to general business connected with the estate and some charitable
institution, left them as she found them, and without one look of pity
or regret on her now flushed face towards him to whose liberality she
had for years been indebted for a home, with all the comforts and
conveniences of life, left the apartment and regained her own chamber
without meeting or being seen by any one. Her first act was to securely
lock up the papers so feloniously obtained, then, applying cold water to
her heated brow, to wait for the ringing of the second bell for
breakfast. She could hear the voice of Edith, as her laugh rang out upon
the lawn beneath her open window, at the gambols of the two greyhounds.

"Reynolds, ascertain whether Sir Jasper will have his breakfast sent up
to him," said Mrs. Fraudhurst, as she and, Edith took their seats at the
table, some twenty minutes later.

Edith did not speak, but waited patiently to know if her uncle would
come down. There had been a growing coolness between her and the lady
who headed the table. She could not but think that there was some
complicity between her and Ralph Coleman with respect to herself. She
could not tell why this should be, but could not divest herself of the
idea, nevertheless.

"My master is not in his own room, and has not slept in his bed,"
hurriedly exclaimed Reynolds, re-entering the breakfast room. Edith
started up, visibly agitated, but not so with the widow, she coolly
said, "you had better look in at the library, he was writing there late
last night and may probably have thrown himself on the lounge, and
fallen asleep there."

"I will go with you," Edith said to the old servant, as she proceeded a
little in advance of him.

Mrs. Fraudhurst sat