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466 'Oh, I understand,' said the doctor. 'She shall have time for consideration. How much shall we give her, squire? three minutes? Go up to her, Frank: she is in the drawing-room.'

Frank went to the door, and then hesitated, and returned. 'I could not do it,' said he. 'I don't think that I understand it all yet. I am so bewildered that I could not tell her;' and he sat down at the table, and began to sob with emotion.

'And she knows nothing of it?' asked the squire.

'Not a word. I thought that I would keep the pleasure of telling her for Frank.'

'She should not be left in suspense,' said the squire.

'Come, Frank, go up to her,' again urged the doctor. 'You've been ready enough with your visits when you knew that you ought to stay away.'

'I cannot do it,' said Frank, after a pause of some moments; 'nor is it right that I should. It would be taking advantage of her.'

'Go to her yourself, doctor; it is you that should do it,' said the squire.

After some further slight delay the doctor got up, and did go up stairs. He, even, was half afraid of the task. 'It must be done,' he said to himself, as his heavy steps mounted the stairs. 'But how to tell it!'

When he entered, Mary was standing half way up the room, as though she had risen to meet him. Her face was troubled, and her eyes were almost wild. The emotion, the hopes, the fears of that morning had almost been too much for her. She had heard the murmuring of voices in the room below, and had known that one was that of her lover. Whether that discussion was to be for her good or ill she did not know; but she felt that further suspense would almost kill her. 'I could wait for years,' she thought to herself, 'if I did but know. If I lost him, I suppose I should bear it, if I did but know.'—Well; she was going to know.

Her uncle met her in the middle of the room. His face was serious, though not sad; too serious to confirm her hopes at that moment of doubt. 'What is it, uncle?' she said, taking one of his hands between both of her own. 'What is it? Tell me.' And as she looked up into his face with her wild eyes, she almost frightened him.

'Mary,' he said, gravely, 'you have heard much, I know, of Sir Roger Scatcherd's great fortune.'

'Yes, yes, yes!'

'Now that poor Sir Louis is dead'

'Well, uncle, well?'

'It has been left'