"I imagine you scarcely comprehend some of the conditions that place me in a peculiarly embarrassing position. Here is the will of your grandmother; I preserved for you the original draft in her handwriting. The last page bears upon the question under discussion. Read it now, and then, whatever your wishes, I individually shall obey them." Judge Kent seated himself, lifted the decanter in front of him, and filled a glass. "Meantime, will you join me in a glass of sherry?" "No, thank you; my doctor restricts me to claret." Very slowly Eglah read the broad sheet, and her countenance changed, clouded, as she betrayed her annoyance by taking her under lip between her teeth. "We beg your pardon, Mr. Whitfield; we had entirely forgotten that clause. Unless I marry, your trusteeship continues until I am thirty years old, should I live so long." "Not necessarily mine. I can resign, or death may release me, but some other person would be required." "A most unjust and absurd provision," said the judge, draining his second glass, and striving to conceal his remembrance of the fact that Mrs. Maurice had expressly forbidden his connection with the trusteeship. Mr. Whitfield smiled. "We lawyers all know testators use only their individual standards of justice, wisdom, and fitness." Eglah had folded the paper, replaced it in the envelope, and turned to the lawyer. "It appears that if for any reason you should relinquish this responsibility, your successor is already appointed, and in that event I should become practically the ward of the Chancery Court, which never resigns, never dies." She looked straight into her father's watching eyes, and continued slowly, distinctly: "I shall not marry. Your stewardship, dear Mr. Whitfield, involves some additional years of trouble for you, but I am so deeply grateful to you, I shall certainly try to cause as little annoyance as possible." A shutter swung open, the sun flashed in, and she crossed the room to exclude the glare. Returning, she paused behind her father's chair, put her arms around his neck, and interlaced her fingers. Without an instant's hesitation he elevated and shook his shoulders so decidedly her hands fell to her side. "Sit down, my dear." He built a pyramid with his plump, white, carefully manicured fingers, and the brilliant eyes he fixed on the man beside him held a challenge. "If the sanctity of wills were not debatable, our profession would be barred from browsing in rich pastures of litigation; and 'undue influence,' fostering injustice, has bred strife since its innings as far back as the wrongs of Esau. As sole heir to the Maurice fortune, my daughter can follow her individual wishes and judgment concerning the management of what is indisputably her own, since there could be no family contestants." He bowed to Mr. Whitfield. "Judge Kent, if Eglah so decided, there would be, on my part, no contest."