ew that her aunt would come, and that task was soon
done.

But her letter to her brother was much more difficult. What should
she tell him, and what should she not tell him? She began by
describing her grandfather's state, and by saying to him, as she
had done to Mrs Greenow, that she believed the old man's hours were
well-nigh come to a close. She told him that she had asked her aunt
to come to her; "not," she said, "that I think her coming will be
of material service, but I feel the loneliness of the house will be
too much for me at such a time. I must leave it for you to decide,"
she said, "whether you had better be here. If anything should
happen,"--people when writing such letters are always afraid to speak
of death by its proper name,--"I will send you a message, and no
doubt you would come at once." Then came the question of the will.
Had it not occurred to her that her own interests were involved
she would have said nothing on the subject; but she feared her
brother,--feared even his misconstruction of her motives, even though
she was willing to sacrifice so much on his behalf,--and therefore
she resolved to tell him all that she knew. He might turn upon her
hereafter if she did not do so, and accuse her of a silence which had
been prejudicial to him.

So she told it all, and the letter became long in the telling. "I
write with a heavy heart," she said, "because I know it will be a
great blow to you. He gave me to understand that in this will he left
everything away from you. I cannot declare that he said so directly.
Indeed I cannot remember his words; but that was the impression he
left on me. The day before he had asked me what I should do if he
gave me the estate; but of course I treated that as a joke. I have no
idea what he put into his will. I have not even attempted to guess.
But now I have told you all that I know." The letter was a very long
one, and was not finished till late; but when it was completed she
had the two taken out into the kitchen, as the boy was to start with
them before daylight.

Early on the next morning she crept silently into her grandfather's
room, as was her habit; but he was apparently sleeping, and then she
crept back again. The old servant told her that the Squire had been
awake at four, and at five, and at six, and had called for her. Then
he had seemed to go to sleep. Four or five times in the course of the
morning Kate went into the room, but her grandfather did not not