Mrs. Walter Scott was confounded,—utterly, totally confounded, and for a moment deprived of her powers of speech. That she had not listened to the Squire’s _last_ will and testament,—that there was foul play somewhere, she fully believed, and she scanned the faces of those present to find the guilty one. But for the fact that Aleck and Hester were not remembered in this will, she might have suspected them; but the omission of their names was in their favor, while the stolid, almost stupid look of Aleck’s face, was another proof of his innocence. Hester, too, though slightly restless, appeared as usual. Nobody showed guilt but _Roger_, whose face had turned very red, and was very red still as he sat fidgeting in his chair and looking hard at Frank. The locked drawer and the package taken from it, recurred now to the lady’s mind, and made her sure that Roger had the real will in his pocket; and, in a choking voice, she said to the lawyer, as he was about to congratulate the boy on his brilliant fortune: “Stop, please, Mr. Schofield; I think—yes, I know—there was another will—a later one—in which matters were reversed—and—and Frank—was the heir.” Her words rang through the room, and, for an instant, those who heard them sat as if stunned. Roger’s face was white now, instead of red, but he didn’t look as startled as might have been expected. He did not realize that if what his sister said was true, he was almost a beggar;—he only thought how much better it was for Frank, toward whom he meant to be so generous; and he looked kindly at the little white-haired boy who had, in a certain sense, come up as his rival. Mrs. Walter Scott had risen from her chair and locked the door; then, going to the table where the lawyer was sitting, she stood leaning upon it, and gazing fixedly at Roger. The lawyer, greatly surprised at the turn matters were taking, said to her a little sarcastically: “I fancied, from something you said, that you did not know there was a _will_ at all. Why do you think there was a later one? Did you ever see it, and why should Squire Irving do injustice to his only son?” Mrs. Walter Scott detected in the lawyer’s tone that he had forsaken her, and it added to her excitement, making her so far forget her character as a lady, that her voice was raised to an unnatural pitch, and shook with anger as she replied, “I never saw it, but I know there was one, and that your father drew it. It was made some months ago, when I was visiting at Millbank. I went to Boston for a few days, and when I came back, Squire Irving told me what he had done.” “Who witnessed the will?” the lawyer asked. “That I do not know. I only know there was one, and that Frank was the heir.”