The document was very brief. He left Helen the interest of twenty thousand dollars a year, the same to cease if she married; all the rest of the property he left to his wife. As the lawyer concluded, Helen’s face put on an expression of wonder and grief, succeeded by one of utter loneliness; while from Mrs. Markson’s eyes there flashed an exultant look that had so much of malignity in it that it made me understand the nature of Satan a great deal more clearly than any sermon ever made me do. Poor Helen tried to meet it with fearlessness and dignity, but she seemed to feel as if even her father had abandoned her, and she dropped her head and burst into tears. I know it wasn’t the thing to do before company, but I took her hand and called her a poor girl, and begged her to keep a good heart, and trust that her father loved her truly, and that her wrongs would be righted at the proper time. Being kind to my fellow-creatures is the biggest part of my religion, for it’s the part of religion I understand best; but even if I had been a heathen, I couldn’t have helped wishing well to a noble, handsome woman like Helen Markson. I tried to speak in a very low tone, but Mrs. Markson seemed to understand what I said, for she favored me with a look more malevolent than any I had ever received from my most impecunious debtor; the natural effect was to wake up all the old Adam there was in _me_, and to make me long for what was coming. “May I ask the date of that will?” asked Judge Bardlow. “Certainly, sir,” replied Mrs. Markson’s lawyer, handing the document to the judge. The judge looked at the date, handed the will back to the lawyer, and drew from his pocket an envelope. “Here is a will made by Mr. Markson,” said the judge, “and dated three months later.” Mrs. Markson started; her eyes flashed with a sort of fire which I hope I may never see again, and she caught her lower lip up between her teeth. The judge read the document as calmly as if it had been a mere supervisor’s notice, whereas it was different to the first will in every respect, for it gave to Helen all of his property, of every description, on condition that she paid to Mrs. Markson yearly the interest of twenty thousand dollars until death or marriage, “this being the amount,” as the will said, “that she assured me would be amply sufficient for my daughter under like circumstances.” As the judge ceased reading, and folded the document, Mrs. Markson sprang at him as if she were a wild beast. “Give it to me!” she screamed—hissed, rather; “’tis a vile, hateful forgery!” “Madame,” said the judge, hastily putting the will in his pocket, and taking off his glasses, “that is a matter which the law wisely provides shall not be decided by interested parties. When I present it for probate——” “I’ll _break_ it!” interrupted Mrs. Markson, glaring, as my family cat does when a mouse is too quick for her.