This threat effectually silenced Doctor Remy. It was essential that the matter should not be taken out of his hands, till he had satisfied himself that it could in nowise be turned to his account. "If it comes to the worst," said he to himself, "it is something to have the document in my own handwriting. That gives me a better chance to furnish a substitute, at need." With the rigid self-control that always characterized him, therefore, he now put aside, as far as might be, his own hopes and plans, and set himself diligently to the work of completing the will, in accordance with the Major's instructions, and to his entire satisfaction. He did not even move a muscle when, in due time, the Major dictated a paragraph to the effect that if Carice should not survive him, or should die without issue, the estate should fall to a distant cousin, now in Europe, whose sole claim to his consideration appeared to be that he bore the family name. The doctor was proof against any further shocks, this evening. Fate had done her worst for him, in forcing him to write "Carice Bergan," where he had confidently expected to write "Astra Lyte," and to find his account in so doing. At the end of an hour, three closely written sheets lay upon the table, ready for the signatures of the witnesses, whenever they should appear; and the Major, drawing a long breath of relief, to see his lugubrious business so nearly finished, applied himself to the brandy bottle for appropriate refreshment. Doctor Remy sat silent, abstractedly toying with the pen that had been making such havoc with his plans. Suddenly he raised his eyes to Major Bergan's face with the question;-- "How did that medicine suit you?" "Admirably," replied the Major. "I have had one attack since you were here,--a tolerably severe one, too,--but the second powder acted like a charm." "The second powder!" thought the doctor. "I am afraid that I gave him too many! At that rate, if chance favors him, he may hold on for a year, or more." He was opening his lips for another remark, when the door shook under a vigorous rap; and scarce waiting for the Major's invitation, Dick Causton entered. III. BUILDING ANEW. The new comer opened his eyes wide at sight of Doctor Remy, and the table littered with writing materials; and looked with evident curiosity at the closely written sheets of the will, the character of which he seemed at once to discover or divine. "I see," said he, sententiously, nodding his head,--"'Our last garment is made without pockets.'" Major Bergan shivered as if he had felt a chill breath from the mouth of a tomb. It was hard to be so often reminded that he and his possessions must soon part, with small prospect of meeting again. "If you must quote proverbs, Dick," he exclaimed peevishly, "pray don't quote such cold-blooded ones as that!"