“My dear Miss Douglas,” he said, and his voice shook with sympathy as he looked into her sad face, “it was your aunt’s request that her will be read immediately after the funeral ceremonies, and as our good friend, the doctor, and myself were witnesses to that document, we were invited to be present at the reading of it.” Brownie bowed. She could not speak, for the tears were choking her so. What was wealth to her in her lonely condition. She knew everything was willed to her, for Miss Mehetabel had told her so, but her generous little heart recoiled from having so much, when there was no one but herself on whom to lavish it. Mr. Ashley retired to a seat, and signified to Mr. Conrad, the lawyer, that they were ready to listen. He took up the legal-looking document from the table, near which he was sitting, and began to read. Everything, as she had expected, was given to Brownie, excepting a legacy of five hundred dollars to each of the trusty servants, who had been with her so many years. All the plate, the house, with its elegant furnishings, the stable, with its fine horses and carriages, were hers, and she privileged to choose whom she liked to manage her affairs in the future. There was a long silence after the lawyer ceased reading. Brownie sat listless, and gazing absently out of the window, and feeling so strange and lonely, as if some great burden had suddenly fallen upon her. “Ahem! ah—Miss Douglas—will you kindly give me your attention for a few moments?” asked Mr. Conrad, breaking in upon her reverie, and speaking with great embarrassment. She started violently. “Yes, sir; I beg your pardon for seeming inattentive,” she said, and the color leaped into her face for a moment. She waited a few moments, but he seemed suddenly to have become as absent-minded as she had been. She glanced at him, and was amazed at his appearance, while the doctor and Mr. Ashley exchanged wondering glances. Mr. Conrad was an elderly man of about sixty; his hair was gray, and his face was wrinkled, but it was a noble face withal. At this moment it seemed to be convulsed with pain. His lips were drawn into a tight line across his teeth, and were almost livid, while the cords stood out hard and knotted upon his forehead, and the hand which held the will trembled visibly. Brownie forgot herself instantly when she saw his evident suffering. “Mr. Conrad, are you ill? Let me call Jones to get you something,” she exclaimed, half rising to ring the bell. “No, Miss Douglas, keep your seat. My illness is of the mind, not of the body,” he replied, in tones of deepest pain. Then, quickly rising, he went over and stood before her, with bowed head, and hands clinched, as if he were struggling with some terrible emotion.