of an old and tried friend whom you know that
you can trust."

"It means the admiral, I suppose?" said
Noel Vanstone.

Mrs. Lecount bowed.

"Very well," he continued. " The admiral let
it be."

There was plainly some oppression still
weighing on his mind. Even under the trying
circumstances in which he was now placed, it was not
in his nature to take Mrs. Lecount's perfectly
sensible and disinterested advice without a word
of cavil, as he had taken it now.

"Are you ready, sir?

"Yes."

Mrs. Lecount dictated the first paragraph, from
the Draft, as follows:—

"This is the last Will and Testament of me,
Noel Vanstone, now living at Baliol Cottage,
near Dumfries. I revoke, absolutely and in
every particular, my former will executed on the
thirtieth of September, eighteen hundred and
forty-seven; and I hereby appoint Rear-Admiral
Arthur Everard Bartram, of St. Crux-in-the-
Marsh, Essex, sole executor of this my will."

"Have you written those words, sir?"

"Yes."

Mrs. Lecount laid down the Draft; Noel
Vanstone laid down the pen. They neither of
them looked at each other. There was a long
silence.

"I am waiting, Mr. Noel," said Mrs. Lecount,
at last, " to hear what your wishes are, in
respect to the disposal of your fortune. Your large
fortune," she added, with merciless emphasis.

He took up the pen again, and began picking
the feathers from the quill in dead silence.

"Perhaps, your existing will may help you to
instruct me, sir," pursued Mrs. Lecount. " May
I inquire to whom you left all your surplus
money, after leaving the eighty thousand pounds
to your wife?"

If he had answered that question plainly, he
must have said, " I have left the whole surplus to
my cousin, George Bartram"-— and the implied
acknowledgment that Mrs. Leeount's name was
not mentioned in the will, must then have
followed in Mrs. Lecount's presence. A much
bolder man, in his situation, might have felt the
same oppression and the same embarrassment
which he was feeling now. He picked the last
morsel of feather from the quill; and, desperately
leaping the pitfall under his feet, advanced to
meet Mrs. Lecount's claims on him of his own
accord.

"I would rather not talk of any will, but the
will I am making now," he said, uneasily. " The
first thing, Lecount—"  He hesitated — put
the bare end of the quill into his mouth — gnawed
at it thoughtfully—- and said no more.

"Yes, sir?" persisted Mrs. Lecount.

"The first thing is-—- "

"Yes, sir?"

"The first thing is, to-— to make some provision
for You?"

He spoke the last words in a tone of
plaintive interrogation-— as if all hope of being
met by a magnanimous refusal had not
deserted him, even yet. Mrs. Lecount enlightened
his mind on this point, without a moment's loss
of time.

"Thank you, Mr. Noel," she said, with the
tone and manner of a woman who was not
acknowledging a favour, but receiving a right.

He took another bite at the quill. The
perspiration began to appear on his face.

"The difficulty is," he remarked, " to say how
much."

"Your lamented father, sir," rejoined Mrs.
Lecount, "met that difficulty (if you remember)
at the time of his last illness?"

"I don't remember," said Noel Vanstone,
doggedly.

"You were on one side of his bed, sir; and I
was on the other. We were vainly trying to
persuade him to make his will. After telling us he
would wait, and make his will when he was well
again—- he looked round at me, and said some
kind and feeling words which my memory will
treasure to my dying day. Have you forgotten
those words, Mr. Noel?"

"Yes," said Mr. Noel, without hesitation.

"In my present situation, sir," retorted Mrs.
Lecount, " delicacy forbids me to improve your
memory."

She looked at her watch, and relapsed into
silence. He clenched his hands, and writhed
from side to side of his chair, in an agony of
indecision. Mrs. Lecount passively refused to take
the slightest notice of him.

"What should you say-—-?" he began, and
suddenly stopped again.

"Yes, sir?"

"What should you say to —- a thousand
pounds?"

Mrs. Lecount rose from her chair, and looked
him full in the face, with the majestic
indignation of an outraged woman.

"After the service I have rendered you to-day,
Mr. Noel," she said, " I have at least earned a
claim on your respect-— if I have earned nothing
more. I wish you good morning."

"Two thousand!" cried Noel Vanstone, with
the courage of despair.

Mrs. Lecount folded up her papers, and hung
her travelling-bag over her arm in contemptuous
silence.

"Three thousand!"

Mrs. Lecount moved with impenetrable dignity
from the table to the door.

"Four thousand!"

Mrs. Lecount gathered her shawl round her
with a shudder, and opened the door.

"Five thousand!"

He clasped his hands, and wrung them at her
in a frenzy of rage and suspense. " Five
thousand," was the death-cry of his pecuniary
suicide.