“I say it is a cheat--how or by whom contrived I know not--but it is a cheat. My father loved me--the only one of you who ever did. If there was a coolness between us, he forgave me when he died. You all saw that.” There was no denying it. Every one remembered how the father's last dying look of love had been on his eldest son. Again the tide of family feeling changed. They threw doubtful glances towards Nathanael, except his wife. But she drew closer to him, and trembled and doubted no more. He stood, meeting the eyes of all his family. In his aspect was great distress, but entire composure--not a shadow of hesitation or confusion. Nor, on the other hand, was there any triumph. When he spoke--they seemed expecting him to speak--his voice was low and steady: “You know, brother, and all the rest of you know, that I have had no hand in this matter.” “I know nothing of the sort,” cried Frederick. “I only know that I have been defrauded--disgraced.--Not by any act of my father's, or he would not lie quiet in his grave. My father always loved me.” And the quick feeling natural to Major Harper made him hesitate--unable to proceed. But soon he continued, vehemently: “I will find out this. Evil speakers, malicious, underhand hypocrites, have turned my father against me. I declare to Heaven that I never wronged any”-- Frederick stopped--interrupted not by words, for there was perfect silence--but by a certain quiet look of Anne Valery's, which fastened on his face. He turned crimson--he had so much of the woman in him, though of womanhood in its weakest form. He glanced from Miss Valery to Agatha, and then back again. “Anne--Anne Valery, tell me do you know anything?” “Everything.” “You--even you!” For the moment, he cowered in such emotion as was pitiful to see; but it passed and he grew desperate. “I say, I will contest this will. It shall be proved invalid. My lawyer Grimes”-- “Mr. Grimes has been here, and is now gone to America,” Anne whispered. “I urged and assisted him to go, that he should not throw disgrace on the family.” Again Frederick cowered down, then rose, goaded to the last degree. “Nevertheless, this will shall not stand. I will throw it into Chancery. I will leave for London this very day.” “Stay,” said Nathanael, starting from deep thought, and intercepting him as he was quitting the room. “One word, Frederick.” “Not one! You are all against me, but I will brave you all. I will have my rights--ay, even if I plead my father's insanity.” “Oh, horrible!” cried his sisters. “Frederick, you know that to be impossible,” said Nathanael, sternly. “Then I will plead what may prove a deeper disgrace to the family than madness, or even--what I am supposed to have done,” catching his brother's arm, and hissing out the words in his face--“I will plead that the will is _a forgery_.”