At two o’clock the next morning there shone in this library a faint light. By the escritoir stood Ross softly trying a key in the lock, and behind him upon a table rested a dark lantern, so placed that all its rays fell in one direction, leaving most of the room in darkness. Noiselessly the key was turned, and without a sound was the escritoir opened, and the ebony box dragged forth. The will was the first paper that presented itself on opening the box. Ross took it up, seated himself in Mr. Clark’s easy chair, and began to read; nervously glancing over the pages, and starting from time to time if the slightest sound reached his ear. “As I thought!” he said, in a stern, low voice, dashing his hand against the paper till the sheets rustled loud enough to make him start. “Thus has one day undone the work of years. I knew that something had warped his heart against me!” Thoughtfully, and with a frowning brow, Ross folded up the will, laid it in its depository, and secured it as before. At first he was tempted to take the light from his lantern, and consume it at once, but the rash thought was abandoned after a moment’s reflection, for there was danger at any hour that Mr. Clark might detect the fraud and place another will beyond his reach. With his duplicate key and ready access to all the apartments, there was little to dread while the will remained under that roof. The moment every thing was safe, Ross closed his lantern, and sat for more than an hour musing in the darkness. When he came forth, there was a deep and gloomy cloud upon his brow; the pale moonbeams fell upon it through the windows, as he passed to his own room, but the moonbeams failed to reveal the black thought that lay hidden beneath that frown. There was more than fraud in that hideous thought.