e into the library, so
pleasantly, that no one who had not studied his face long and carefully
would have suspected the bitterness of heart that lay hidden far down
beneath his deceptive smile. He told Miss Silence, with much apparent
interest, the story of his journey. He gave her an account of the
progress of the case in which the estate of which she inherited the
principal portion was interested. He did not tell her that a final
decision which would settle the right to the great claim might be
expected at any moment, and he did not tell her that there was very
little doubt that it would be in favor of the heirs of Malachi Withers.
He was very sorry he could not see Miss Hazard that evening,--hoped he
should be more fortunate to-morrow forenoon, when he intended to call
again,--had a message for her from one of her former school friends,
which he was anxious to give her. He exchanged certain looks and hints
with Miss Cynthia, which led her to withdraw and bring down the papers
he had intrusted to her. At the close of his visit, she followed him
into the entry with a lamp, as was her common custom.

"What's the meaning of all this, Cynthia? Is that fellow making love to
Myrtle?"

"I'm afraid so, Mr. Bradshaw. He's been here several times, and they
seem to be getting intimate. I couldn't do anything to stop it."

"Give me the papers,--quick!"

Cynthia pulled the package from her pocket. Murray Bradshaw looked
sharply at it. A little crumpled,--crowded into her pocket. Seal
unbroken. All safe.

"I shall come again to-morrow forenoon. Another day and it will be all
up. The decision of the court will be known. It won't be my fault if one
visit is not enough.--You don't suppose Myrtle is in love with this
fellow?"

"She acts as if she might be. You know he's broke with Susan Posey, and
there's nothing to hinder. If you ask my opinion, I think it's your last
chance: she isn't a girl to half do things, and if she has taken to this
man it will be hard to make her change her mind. But she's young, and
she has had a liking for you, and if you manage it well there's no
telling."

Two notes passed between Myrtle Hazard and Master Byles Gridley that
evening. Mistress Kitty Fagan, who had kept her ears pretty wide open,
carried them.

Murray Bradshaw went home in a very desperate state of feeling. He had
laid his plans, as he thought, with perfect skill, and the certainty of
their securing their end. These papers were to