Arthur did not reply at once, for he knew he held that which would effectually take away all right from Edith. After Nina, he was Mr. Bernard's chosen heir, but not for an instant did he waver in the course he should pursue, and when the interview was ended with the negroes, and Edith was again with Nina, he excused himself for a moment, but soon returned, bearing in his hand Mr. Bernard's will, which he bade Edith read. And she did read it, feeling intuitively as if her father from the grave were speaking to her, the injured Petrea's child, and virtually casting her aside. The tears gathered slowly in her eyes, dropping one by one upon the paper, which without a word she handed back to Arthur. "What is it, Arthur boy?" Nina asked. "What is it that makes Miggie cry?" Arthur doubted whether either of the girls would understand him if he entered into an explanation involving many technical terms, but he would do the best he could, and sitting down by Nina, he held her upon his bosom, while he said, "Does my little girl remember the time when I met her in Boston, years ago, and Charlie Hudson brought me papers from her father?" "Yes," answered Nina; "there was one that had in it something about straight jackets, and when I read it, I hit my head against the bureau. It's never been quite right since. Is this the letter that made Miggie cry?" "No," returned Arthur. "This is your father's will, made when he thought there was no Miggie. In it, I am, his heir after you, and Miggie hasn't a cent." "You may have mine, Miggie. Nina'll give you hers, she will," and the little maiden made a movement toward Edith, while Arthur continued, "Yon can't, darling. It's mine after you;" and this he said, not to inflict fresh pain on Edith, but to try Nina, and hear what she would say. There was a perplexed, troubled look in her eyes, and then, drawing his head close to her, she whispered, "Couldn't you scratch it out, just as Richard did, only he didn't. That's a good boy. He will, Miggie," and she nodded toward Edith, while Arthur rejoined, "Would it please my child-wife very much to have me scratch it out?" He had never called her thus before Edith until now, and he stole a glance at her to witness the effect. For an instant she was white as marble; then the hot blood seemed bursting from the small round spot where it had settled in her cheeks, and involuntarily she extended her hand toward him in token of her approval. She could not have reassured him better than by this simple act, and still retaining her hand, he went on, "When I came to Florida, after Mr. Bernard's death, my first step was to have the will proved, and consequently this sheet is now of very little consequence; but as you both will, undoubtedly, breathe more freely if every vestige of this writing is removed. I will destroy it at once, and, as soon as possible, take the legal steps for reinstating Edith."