Frank understood her now. He knew before that the lost will was found, and he supposed that possibly he shared equally with Roger, but he never dreamed that to him was given all, and to Roger nothing; and as Magdalen finished speaking he opened the paper nervously and read it through, while she sat watching him, her eyes growing blacker and brighter and more defiant, as she fancied she saw a half-pleased expression flit across his face when he read that _he_ was the lawful heir of Millbank. He had been defrauded of his rights for years, had murmured against his poverty and his dependence, and thought hard things of the old man in his grave who had left him only five thousand dollars. But that was over now. Poverty and dependence were things of the past. The old man in his grave had willed to Frank, his beloved grandchild, all his property except a few legacies similar to those in the older will, and the paltry sum left to “the boy known as Roger Lennox Irving.” That was the way it was worded, not “My son Roger,” but “the boy known as Roger Lennox Irving.” To him was bequeathed the sum of Five Thousand dollars, and the farm among the New Hampshire hills known as the “Morton” place. That was all Roger’s inheritance, and it is not strange that Frank sat for a moment speechless. Had he shared equally with Roger he would not have been surprised; but why he should have the whole and Roger nothing, he did not understand. The injustice of the thing struck him at first quite as forcibly as it did Magdalen, and more to himself than her, he said, “There must be some mistake. My grandfather would never have done this thing in his right mind. Where did you find it, Magdalen?” He did not seem elated, as she feared he might. She had done him injustice, and with far more toleration than she had felt for him at first, Magdalen told him where she had found it and why she chanced to look there, and pointed to the signatures of Hester and Aleck Floyd as witnesses to the will. “Hester hid it,” she said, “because she knew it was unjust, and it was the fear of its being found which troubled her so much.” “That is probable,” Frank rejoined; “but still I can see no reason for my grandfather’s cutting Roger off with a mere pittance. It is cruel. It is unjust.” “Oh, Frank,” Magdalen cried, and the tears which glittered in her eyes softened the fiery expression they had worn a few moments before. “Forgive me; I was harsh towards you at first, but now I know you mean to do right. You _will_, Frank. You certainly _will_ do right.”