“And this deed?” said my aunt; “you were about to speak of it.” “It is,” he replied, “a simple act of sale for one shilling, a reconveyance of Wyncote from William to Hugh, the date October 9, 1671. It is in order, and duly witnessed.” “Well?” “As to its present value, Mistress Wynne, there is a consensus of opinion between the Attorney-General and myself.” “That is to say, you agree,” said my aunt. “Precisely, madam. It is our belief that the lapse of time has probably destroyed the title. There is no annexed trust, on William’s part, to hold for his brother’s use, and the length of undisputed, or what we lawyers call adverse, possession--something like an hundred years or more--_seems_ to make it impossible for my friends to oust the present holder. Am I clear?” “Too clear, sir,” said my aunt. “Is that all?” “No;” I said, “it seems there are other questions, such as the mention of the matter in letters. If the succeeding brothers in letters or otherwise from time to time acknowledged the rights of Hugh Wynne, that might serve to keep alive the claim; if, too, it can be proved that at any time they paid over to Hugh or his son, your brother, madam, rents or dues, as belonging to these American claimants, this too would serve to give some validity to your present claim. It is a question of dates, letters, and of your possession of evidence in the direction of repeated admissions on the part of the Welsh holders.” My Aunt Gainor was at once confident. Search should be made. She had some remembrance in her childhood of this and that. In fact, my aunt never admitted the existence of obstacles, and commonly refused to see them. Mr. Wilson shook his head dubiously. “There seems to have been negligence or a quite culpable indifference, madam. The time to be covered by admissions is long, and the statutes of 32 Henry VIII. and 21 James I., 1623, do, I fear, settle the matter. The lapse in the continuity of evidence will be found after the death of Hugh. Twenty years will suffice, and I am forced to admit that your claim seems to me of small value. It was simply an estate given away, owing to want of the simplest legal advice.” “Wait until I look through our papers,” said my aunt. “We are not done with it yet, nor shall be, if I have my way, until the courts have had a chance to decide.” “It will be mere waste of money, my dear lady. Now, at least, you can do nothing. The war is not over, and when it is, none but an English court can settle the title. I confess it seems to be a case for amicable compromise.” “There shall be none--none,” said my aunt. “And we are just where we began,” said I. “Not quite,” he returned. “You may have a case, but it seems to me a weak one, and may lie in chancery a man’s lifetime. I, as a friend as well as a lawyer, knowing you have no need of the estate, hesitate to advise you to engage in a suit of ejectment. I should rather counsel--ah, that may be Mr. Wynne.”