“An old fool!” echoed softly from lip to lip—the paltry sum already dashing their cup of joy. “You have heard the will, ladies and gentlemen,” said the lawyer, addressing the company, “I believe Mrs. May acknowledges herself still a widow—will you signify the same, madam?” Florence bowed. “You observe, ladies and gentlemen, the lady admits herself a widow; then, of course, it only remains for me to announce young Abel May as sole heir to all the property, both personal and real, of which the testator died possessed.” “But Abel May has not returned!” was the general exclamation. “Abel May has returned—Abel May is here to claim his rights!” said the lawyer, screech owl that he was to their ears. The folding doors were thrown open, and a gentleman slowly advanced within the circle. Did Florence dream—was it no vision of her imagination! for as she looked upon the stranger, the same eyes she had seen so mournfully gazing upon her in the picture gallery, but which now, beaming with happiness, met hers, while upon his finger—a star of hope—glittered the emerald ring she had sent the unknown. Slightly bowing to the astonished assembly, Abel May eagerly approached her. The happy girl looked up with a sweet smile as he drew near; what need of words, her beautiful eyes were far more eloquent, and with thrilling joy the young heir caught her to his bosom. At first the discomfited relatives disputed the identity of the tall, elegant stranger, with the lad who so many years before went roving; but his proofs were indisputable. So out of the room, and out of the house, and back again to their homes, with unreplenished purses, they quickly dispersed. It appears that young May returned only a few weeks subsequent to the death of his uncle from the East Indies, where he had accumulated a handsome fortune. By accident he saw Florence, and was deeply interested by her appearance. Aware that a lapse of so many years must have materially altered his person, he resolved to remain incognito. Frequent opportunities of seeing the young widow ripened the interest she had first inspired into affection. Yet he would not present himself to her notice amid the throng of fortune-hunters and idle flatterers who surrounded her. Rumor had made known to him the nature of the will, and he resolved to abide the year, taking upon himself, meanwhile, the pleasing office of acting as the protector and guide of the young, inexperienced widow. If, at the end of the year, she had so far evinced a soul above all sordid views as to remain unmarried, then, and not till then, would he seek to gain her love. With the fortune, however, which, in the event of her remaining single, would fall to him, he nobly resolved to have no share, and had therefore drawn up an instrument by which he relinquished all claim in favor of Florence, whether successful in obtaining her affection or not. This only awaited its proper time to be duly attested.