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Her eyes fall upon the hearthrug. Half under the fender a small piece of crumpled paper attracts her notice. Still talking, she stoops mechanically and picks it up, smooths it, and opens it.,

He sighs, and looks straight into the lovely frightened eyes bending over him. Then the color comes with a sudden rush back into his cheeks as he tells himself she will look upon him as nothing less than a "poor creature" to lose consciousness and behave like a silly girl for so slight a cause. And something else he feels. Above and beyond everything is a sense of utter happiness, such as he has never known before, a thrill of rapture that has in it something of peace, and that comes from the touch of the little brown hand that rests so lightly on his head.,

The general bath-room is to Geoffrey an abomination; nothing would induce him to enter it. His own bath, and nothing but his own bath, can content him. To have to make uncomfortable haste to be first, or else to await shivering the good pleasure of your next-door neighbor, is according to Mr. Rodney, a hardship too great for human endurance.,

So Mrs. Rodney says, "It was rather better than I anticipated, thank you," in a tone so icy that his is warm beside it.

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The ghost asked him to come into his lodge, and he entered.,

Then she strains the water from it, and looks with admiration upon its steaming contents. "The murphies" (as, I fear, she calls the potatoes) are done to a turn.,

"You are right: I see it now," says Geoffrey, whitening a little, "Warden wrote that paper, no doubt," glancing at the dirty bit of writing that has led to the discovery. "He evidently had his knowledge from old Elspeth, who must have known of this secret hiding-place from my great-grandfather. My father, I am convinced, knew nothing of it. Here, on the night of my grandfather's death, the old woman must have hidden the will, and here it has remained ever since until to-night. Yet, after all, this is mere supposition," says Geoffrey. "We are taking for granted what may prove a myth. The will may never been placed here, and he himself——",

One hand is resting lightly with a faintly theatrical touch upon the head of the lean greyhound, the other is raised to her forehead as though to shield her eyes from the bright sun.