He heard her, though she spoke in a whisper, and turning his eyes slowly toward her, replied: “Somebody has found the will, and Roger is a beggar.” “Oh, Aleck, I wish I was dead,” Magdalen exclaimed, and then sank down upon the floor at the old man’s feet, sobbing in a piteous kind of way, and trying to explain how she had found it first, and how she would give her life if she never had done so. In the midst of her story Hester came in, and Magdalen sprang up and started toward her, but something in the expression of the old woman’s face stopped her suddenly, and grasping the back of a chair, she stood speechless, while Hester gave vent to a tirade of abuse, accusing her of ruining Roger, taunting her with vile ingratitude, and bidding her take herself and her lover back to where she came from, if that spot could be found. Perfectly wild with excitement Magdalen made no effort to explain, but darted past Hester out into the hall, where the first person she encountered was Frank, who chanced to be passing that way. She did not try to avoid him; she was too faint and dizzy for that, and when asked what was the matter, and where she was going, she answered: “To my room. Oh, help me, please, or I shall never reach it.” He wound his arm around her, and leaning heavily upon him she went slowly down the hall, followed by Hester Floyd, who was watching her movements. Not a word was spoken of the will until her chamber was reached; then, as Frank parted from her, he said: “I think you know that Roger has the will; but I did not give it to him. I would have kept it from him, if possible, and it shall make no difference, if I can help it.” He held her hand a moment; then suddenly stooped and kissed her forehead before she could prevent the act, and walked rapidly away, leaving her flushed and indignant and half fainting, as she crept back to the couch. No one came near her to light her lamp. No one remembered to bring her food or drink. Everybody appeared to have forgotten and forsaken her, but she preferred to be alone, and lay there in the darkness until Celine came in to ask what she would have. “Nothing, only light the lamp, please,” was her reply. Then, after a moment, she asked: “Are the family at dinner?” “Yes; that is, Mrs. Irving and Mr. Frank. Mr. Irving is in the library alone,” Celine said. And then Magdalen sat up and asked the girl to gather up her hair decently, and give it a brush or two, and bring her a clean collar, and her other shawl.