delicate-looking lad of twenty or so, who
bore some slight resemblance to George.
The Newills spoke to her on coming out,
and introduced me as Miss Fortune. I
listened with burning anxiety to the few
courtesies passing between them as we
paced slowly down the village churchyard;
but it was not until Mrs. Haddan's carriage
drove up that my anxiety was appeased.

"Do come up some evening," she said,
"and bring your young friend with you.
Let it be as soon as possible, this evening
if you have no other engagement. Lewis
and I are terribly weary of each other."

A gleam of extraordinary tenderness
softened her face for an instant as she
spoke of her grandson, who seconded the
invitation with great warmth. We went
the same evening, and I exerted myself to
be agreeable; not without success. Lewis
came down the next morning to Mrs.
Newill's upon an errand which readily
presented an excuse for inviting me again to
Haddan Lodge; and before a fortnight had
passed by, both he and Mrs. Haddan
earnestly pressed me to spend a few days
with them altogether. Alone in the house
with them I had unbroken opportunities
for studying their conduct and character.
I soon grew very fond of Lewis, though he
usurped the place of George. There was a
simplicity and helplessness about him which
made me feel the same kind of interest in
him one feels for a child. That he should
partake in the crime, which I knew some
one of the family must be guilty of, seemed
impossible. But I could not come to any
conclusion about Mrs. Haddan. It was
quite possible that she had never seen the
packet addressed to her husband; and that
her son, who was now dead, was the only
guilty person. There was none of the
disquietude of a mind conscious of some
possible calamity to befall her in the future.
She was positively without any other
apprehension for the future except of the
untimely death of Lewis, which she dreaded
with a continual dread. But then her
conscience had not been troubled from without
for fifteen years; and in fifteen years even
sin has lost the sharpness of its sting. Did
she know of George Haddan's claim or
not?

I watched her very closely, and pondered
over all her words and ways. That she
detested the next heir—a clergyman, and
his wife, a pert, silly young woman—was
plain enough. She did not attempt to
conceal it from themselves. They paid the
house one visit while I was there, and she
treated them with undisguised contempt.
They only aggravated her by their solicitude
about Lewis; and she scarcely waited
for them to be gone before her anger broke
out into words.

"The fools!" she exclaimed, for the
dowager did not always use very choice
language—"the hypocrites! They reckon
upon having Haddan Lodge if anything
happens to Lewis. But they will find
themselves mistaken; they never shall."

"How can they expect to have Haddan
Lodge?" I asked, quietly.

"They believe themselves the next
heirs," she went on, in growing anger,
"but they may find themselves mistaken.
I will hunt up George Haddan's children
in America."

She paused suddenly, and looked down
upon me with her large grand eyes. I
was putting some spring flowers together,
and appeared altogether unexcited.

"George was my husband's eldest son,"
she added, "and he died in America. Who
knows if he did not marry some American
woman? There was some vague claim
made about the time of my husband's
death; but nothing came of it. If
anything should happen to Lewis before he
comes of age, I would find them out again,
if only to trouble those fools and hypocrites.
There's no trouble like having one's
rights disputed."

She said no more; but this was quite
enough for me. Now I felt sure that
she was at the bottom of it, and that the
papers had been taken care of. I had no
one to talk it over with; for after putting
me into the way of becoming acquainted
with the dowager Mrs. Haddan, Mr.
Newill had avoided holding any conversation
with me. I suppose he was right; at
any rate I could do without any man's
advice. Mrs. Newill was equally reserved
now; and I was glad of it. I did not wish
to talk and gossip and chatter about my
actions.

Mrs. Haddan had preserved those
documents I was convinced; but where? To
keep them in her own possession would be
dangerous, for a chance might reveal the
secret; and her own illness or death would
be sure to betray it. Yet to entrust them
to any one who was not a sharer in the
secret would be still more dangerous.
They were no doubt in some place where
she could find them when she chose; and
she would have some story ready to
account for their discovery. If Lewis should
die before he could make a will, his