"What was the use?" murmured Emma, "since Harriet Smith is dead and her heirs can never claim the property. _We_ are her heirs, Mr. Etheridge; Harriet Smith was our mother, married to father thirty-nine years ago after a widowhood of only three months. It was never known in this place that she had had a former husband or had borne the name of Smith. There was so much scandal and unhappiness connected with her first most miserable marriage, that she suppressed the facts concerning it as much as possible. She was father's wife and that was all that the people about here knew." "I see," said Frank, wondering greatly at this romance in real life. "But you might have told me," he exclaimed. "When you saw what worriment this case was causing me, you might have informed me that I was expending my efforts in vain." "I wished to do so," answered Emma, "but Hermione dreaded the arguments and entreaties which would follow." "I could not bear the thought of them," exclaimed the girl from the doorway where she stood, "any more than I can bear the thought now when a matter of much more importance to me demands your attention." "I will go," cried Frank. But it was to the empty doorway he spoke; Hermione had vanished with these passionate words. "She is nearly ill," explained Emma, following him as he made for the door. "You must excuse one who has borne so much." "I do not excuse her," he cried, "I love her." And the look he cast up the stairs fully verified this declaration. "That is why I go with half on my lips unsaid. To-morrow we will broach the topic again, meanwhile beware of Huckins. He means you no good by being here. Had I known his connection with you, he should never have entered these doors." "He is our uncle; our mother's brother." "He is a scamp who means to have the property which is rightfully your due." "And he will have it, I suppose," she returned. "Hermione has never given me a hope that she means to contend with him in this matter." "Hermione has had no counsellor but her own will. To-morrow she will have to do with me. But shut the door on Huckins; promise me you will not see him again till after you have seen me." "I cannot--I know too little what is in that letter." "Oh, that letter!" he cried, and was gone from the house. When he arrived at Dr. Sellick's again, he found Doris awaiting him, looking very flushed and anxious. She had a shawl drawn around her, and she held some bundles under that shawl. "I hope," she said, "that you did not get impatient, waiting for me. I had some errands to do, and while doing them I lost the letter you expected and had to go back and look for it. I found it lying under the counter in Mr. Davis' store and that is why it is so soiled, but the inside is all right, and I can only beg your pardon for the delay."