"No, dear Peter," she replied. "There are those nearer to you than I, and more in need of help. Besides--I know the secret; the fulfilling its conditions would therefore be no test of my deserving its benefits. Nor do I stand in want of them. No--dear friend--if, as you kindly say, you consider my advice worth attending to, I would propose this. Bequeath the enchanted table to whichever of your three nephews discovers the inner spell which governs it. In this there will be nothing unfair. You can teach them the magic words, and then inform them that the further secret must be sought and found by themselves--or by himself. Hodge is the eldest--let him have the first trial, then Giles, and lastly Michael." "And if--supposing Hodge succeeds?" said Peter with a rather curious enquiry in his tone. Ysenda's face flushed a little. "Well then, it would be all right. He would continue to use his power as it should be used." "And Giles?" "In the same way, of course," she replied. "But--if both failed, and Mike came to have his try at it?" Ysenda raised her pretty head with a gesture of pride. "_Then_," she replied, "it would most certainly be all right. As to _Michael's_ good heart I have no misgiving whatever. Quite independently of the spell, no sooner would he have it in his power to show kindness to any one in need of it than he would be eager to do so." "I agree with you," said her old friend; and to himself he added, "I suspected as much. Ah well, they are worthy of each other, and I trust that all will prosper with them." Then after a moment's silence he went on again: "I will do as you advise, my child. To-morrow I will announce my intention, and take the three into my confidence as far as is necessary. Then when my own summons comes I shall feel that I have acted for the best--fairly by all, though my own wishes are with that good young fellow, Michael." Ysenda rose to go. "You will come again soon?" said the old man. "The sands are running out quickly, I feel, and I am not likely to be mistaken." "Dear Peter," whispered the young girl, and the tears rose to her eyes. "Bless you, my child," laying his hand on her shoulder. Then just as she was turning away, a curious, listening expression crept over his face. "Yes, yes," he murmured, as if in reply to some inaudible voice, "yes." Ysenda felt a little frightened, and of this Peter seemed at once aware. He patted her again. "Do not be alarmed," he said, with a smile. "I have no dealings with the black arts. But certain things are communicated to me in ways that I must not reveal. And just now--I am glad you were still here. Trouble, or rather perplexity--for the trouble is mingled with joy--is at hand for our good old friend Dame Martha. Will you go to see her to-morrow, Ysenda, and learn about it?" "I was already intending to enquire how she is," said the girl. "I will certainly not fail to see her, and I will do all I can to help her, you may be sure."