She was rendered terribly indignant, as Andry knew full well she would be, by the thought of the gross and cruel injustice of which Mr. Cortelyon meditated making his innocent grandson the victim. She was made both to love strongly and to hate strongly, and there was nothing she hated more than aught that savored of cruelty or injustice. She had loved poor dead and gone Dick as a younger sister loves a handsome, generous, kind-hearted elder brother, and it made her blood boil to think that his child should be treated as an outcast from the hearth to which he ought to have been welcomed as the pride and the heir. But what could be done? How could the purpose of this most iniquitous will be defeated? She could discern no way--none. She was as helpless in the matter as a new-born babe. Tears hot and passionate were shed by her in the privacy of her own room. But of what avail are a girl's tears? They fall, only to be dried up as quickly as a summer shower. Now, it so happened that about this time a certain peripatetic dealer in rare books, coins, and curios of different kinds, of whom Mr. Cortelyon had made sundry purchases at various times, called at Stanbrook on purpose to submit to the Squire a choice illuminated MS. of the fifteenth century, for which he was desirous of finding a customer. The price asked was a high one, but after a little haggling--he was too weak to hold out long--the Squire agreed to pay it rather than let the treasure go. It was not so much that he had fallen in love with it on his own account, as he believed that in it he had secured a rarity, to possess which his friend Mr. Delafosse, who was also a bibliophile and a numismatist, but more of the former than the latter, would be willing to give in exchange a certain unique stater of Epaticcus which he, Ambrose Cortelyon, had long coveted. Although he believed himself to be so near his end, it seemed to him that he should die happier with the precious stater shut up in his palm, and the knowledge that at last it was his own. Yes, Nell should go to Dene House, taking the MS. with her and negotiate the exchange. She was already known to Mr. Delafosse, who was no stranger at Stanbrook, and, in point of fact, was a special favorite of the old collector. Dene House was some twenty-five miles away across country. She could go on horseback, accompanied by John Dyce by way of escort. So great became his impatience that he would have her set out that very afternoon. The days were already long, and she could reach Dene House soon after sunset, stay there overnight--Mrs. Delafosse would give her a hearty welcome--and be back home before noon on the morrow.