Finally the list of bequests ended with one sufficiently unusual to be
called eccentric. It ran thus:--"To Angus Reay I leave Mary Deane--and
with Her, all that I value, and more than I have ever possessed!"

Gradually, very gradually, Mary, sitting alone in Sir Francis Vesey's
office, realised the whole position,--gradually the trouble and
excitation of her mind calmed down, and her naturally even temperament
reasserted itself. She was rich,--but though she tried to realise the
fact, she could not do so, till at last the thought of Angus and how she
might be able now to help him on with his career, roused a sudden rush
of energy within her--which, however, was not by any means actual
happiness. A great weight seemed to have fallen on her life--and she was
bowed down by its heaviness. Kissing David Helmsley's letter, she put it
in her bosom,--he had asked that its contents might be held sacred, and
that no eyes but her own should scan his last words, and to her that
request of a dead man was more than the command of a living King. The
list of bequests she held in her hand ready to show Sir Francis Vesey
when he entered, which he did as soon as she touched the bell. He saw
that, though very pale, she was now comparatively calm and collected,
and as she raised her eyes and tried to smile at him, he realised what a
beautiful woman she was.

"Please forgive me for troubling you so much,"--she said, gently--"I am
very sorry! I understand it all now,--I have read David's letter,--I
shall always call him David, I think!--and I quite see how it all
happened. I can't help being sorry--very sorry, that he has left his
money to me--because it will be so difficult to know how to dispose of
it for the best. But surely a great deal of it will go in these
legacies,"--and she handed him the paper she held--"You see he names you
first."

Sir Francis stared at the document, fairly startled and overcome by his
late friend's generosity, as well as by Mary's naive candour.

"My dear Miss Deane,"--he began, with deep embarrassment.

"You will tell me how to do everything, will you not?" she interrupted
him, with an air of pathetic entreaty--"I want to carry out all his
wishes exactly as if he were beside me, watching me--I think--" and her
voice sank a little--"he may be here--with us--even now!" She paused a
moment. "And if he is, he knows that I do not want money for myself at
all--but that if I can do good with it, for his sake and m