“I am not certain what were my father’s wishes,” said Neva, with a strange gravity, looking afar over the waters with her eyes of red gloom. “Not certain? My dear child, you puzzle me. Did I not give into your own hands your father’s last letter to you, received by me from India in the same mail that brought me the awful news of his death?” “You gave me a letter purporting to be from my father, Mrs. Black,” said the young girl, looking now at her companion, “but are you sure that it was not changed by any one while in your possession? Do not think I would hint one word against your watchful care of it, or--or--your good faith with me; but I am not altogether convinced that papa wrote that letter. Lord Towyn, on reading it, immediately declared it a forgery.” Mrs. Black started. “Did you show it to Lord Towyn?” she demanded. “Yes, and he has it now in his possession, and will submit it to Sir John Freise and Mr. Atkins for their inspection and opinion,” answered Neva. Octavia Black’s dark cheeks paled in the moonlight, and a sudden terror gathered in her hard black eyes. “Neva,” she exclaimed harshly, “I am astonished at the singular want of delicacy that prompted your display of your father’s last letter to Lord Towyn. Of course the earl believes the letter a forgery, since he purposes marrying you himself. He believes whatever it is to his interest to believe.” “Lord Towyn is the soul of honor,” asserted Neva, her cheeks flushing hotly. “He would tell the truth, whether it might be for or against his interests.” “What simple, childlike faith!” murmured Octavia Black, in affected admiration. “But, my dear child, Lord Towyn is no better than other men. Did--did he think that _I_ forged Sir Harold’s letter?” “No, he has too high an opinion of the lady who has been my father’s wife,” returned Neva proudly, “to think such evil of her. But he fancied the true letter might have been replaced with a forged one. Mrs. Artress--Mr. Black--” She paused abruptly, having been urged into saying more than she had intended. “Ah, Lord Towyn thinks them capable of the forgery. Let me tell you, Neva Wynde, that your father told me with his own lips that he had once hoped for your marriage with Lord Towyn, but that he desired in his later days with all his mind and heart that you should marry Rufus Black.” “Papa said that--to you?” “He did. I swear it,” cried the woman, perjuring herself, in her eagerness to produce the desired impression upon Neva’s mind. “But Rufus said he did not know papa?” “That does not affect the fact that Sir Harold knew him,” said Octavia Black firmly. “Rufus did some brave deed at Oxford--saved a comrade’s life, or some such thing--and that first fixed Sir Harold’s eyes upon him. From that moment Sir Harold watched the young fellow’s progress. He saw him frequently, himself unseen. He studied his character, and he became resolved upon your marriage to Rufus.”