"Oh, do not say so," cried Mrs. Villars, "oh, think again, do not say that, and you so kind and good. You know I have given you a written promise, to pay it out of the legacy aunt Clara is to leave me, and that is as binding to my mind, beloved sister, as a legally executed deed; as Villars promises positively, I shall do what I like with the money, when I get it. Have I not promised to continue to pay five per cent interest to your children as well as yourself, should you not live, as I hope and trust you may, many, many years. I can do that easily, as I have done before; at least I could have done so had we not agreed to let the interest accumulate, that I might pay you in the lump. Where is my promise? you have lost it you say, but I remember it all well enough. Oh, good, kind Annie, think again." "But that paper is lost," said Mrs. Lesly, with a vacant look, and she passed her hand over her forehead, as if trying to remember something of it. "I would offer to write another promise," said Mrs. Villars, "only I do not like to bind myself to two sums; for every one may not be so honourable as yourself, and you must have it somewhere, but you need not doubt me if it is lost, need you?" "I wish you would not talk of doubting," said Mrs. Lesly, "it makes me feel so uncomfortable; but once again, my dear sister, let me entreat you to have no concealments from your husband, they never lead to good. If you will tell him everything, I promise to lend you the money." "That is as good as refusing altogether," replied Mrs. Villars, sulkily, "why not say you will not at once, that would be plain and open, but as it is," she added, bursting into tears, "I see you do not care for me." "Well, dear," said Mrs. Lesly, much pained, "you know I can never bear to see you cry--dry your tears and listen to me. How are we to get the money?" Mrs. Villars brightened up in an instant. "Why," said she, "you bank at Coutts's--write me a draft, and I will get it changed in Bath, some how; I can manage it as I did before." "My money," said Mrs. Lesly, with unusual gravity, "has been reduced for your sake, to a very few hundreds, a mere trifle, but my children!" exclaimed she, suddenly dropping her pen, and clasping her hands convulsively. "I have promised to be their mother," said Mrs. Villars, "but nonsense, you will live many years yet." "Do not think of it, do not think of it, my doctor knows my constitution too well to flatter me with such vain hopes. I have been better since you have been here, but that is excitement, and now my head aches so." She placed her hand upon her forehead, and sank into deep thought. Mrs. Villars grew impatient; for there was a struggle going on within her, in which her better self was busily engaged; and the worldly woman almost feared the world would lose the victory, while she trembled at the feelings she was exciting.