ur goodness," said she, surveying with half-sad,
half-admiring glances, the somewhat pale face of the beautiful brunette.

"And you will yield to our united requests?" She cast her eye down at
the spot where her father and brother had cowered in their shackles, and
shook her head. "I dare not," said she.

Immediately Mrs. Daniels, whose emotion had been increasing every moment
since she last spoke, plunged her hand into her bosom and drew out a
folded paper.

"Mrs. Blake," said she, "if you could be convinced that what I have told
you was true, and that you would be irretrievably injuring your husband
and his interests, by persisting in that desertion of him which your
purpose, would you not consent to reconsider your determination, settled
as it appears to be?"

"If I could be made to see that, most certainly," returned she in a low
voice whose broken accents betrayed at what cost she remained true to
her resolve. "But I cannot."

"Perhaps the sight of this paper will help you," said she. And turning
to Mr. Blake she exclaimed, "Your pardon for what I am called upon to
do. A duty has been laid upon me which I cannot avoid, hard as it is for
an old servant to perform. This paper--but it is no more than just that
you, sir, should see and read it first." And with a hand that quivered
with fear or some equally strong emotion, she put it in his clasp.

The exclamation that rewarded the act made us all start forward. "My
father's handwriting!" were his words.

"Executed under my eye," observed Mrs. Daniels.

His glance ran rapidly down the sheet and rested upon the final
signature.

"Why has this been kept from me?" demanded he, turning upon Mrs. Daniels
with sternness.

"Your father so willed it," was her reply. "'For a year' was his
command, 'you shall keep this my last will and testament which I give
into your care with my dying hands, a secret from the world. At the
expiration of that time mark if my son's wife sits at the head of her
husband's table; if she does and is happy, suppress this by deliberately
giving it to the flames, but if from any reason other than death, she is
not seen there, carry it at once to my son, and bid him as he honors
my memory, to see that my wishes as there expressed are at once carried
out.'"

The paper in Mr. Blake's hand fluttered.

"You are aware what those wishes are?" said he.

"I steadied his hand while he wrote," was her sad and earnest reply.

Mr. Blake turned with