Mytton had now gone, as he often went, to the nearest public-house to get a sight of the papers, for the tedious suit was apparently at length drawing near to its close. The boys did not care to work unless their father's eye were upon them; they had run off to amuse themselves, no one exactly knew where. They had little to tempt them to stay near the cottage; the last bit of bread that was in it had been finished at breakfast. "Oh! Amy," sighed poor May, "I wish—I wish we'd never heard of that Mytton estate, that those men in black coats had never come near our cottage, or found these scraps in your pillow! Looking for that inheritance, as father calls it, has been plague and worry to us ever since, and if he don't get it at last, 'twill drive him right out of his wits!" "I fear that disappointment now would nigh break his heart!" murmured Amy. "But if he does get it, won't it make him happy, oh! So very, very happy!" cried May. "I don't know—I hope so; but one can't be quite sure with anything earthly," said Amy. May looked surprised at the doubt. "I'm sure that it will, if father only gets the inheritance," she cried; "but 'tis so very long a-coming, I'm afraid it will never be his." "I believe that I shall enter into mine first," said Amy very faintly, and her lips formed the words to which she had hardly strength to give breath, "far better—far better—undefiled and that fadeth not away!" There was something in the countenance of Amy, sweet and placid as it was, that alarmed May, she could scarcely tell why. The child rose hastily and ran to the door, she felt more anxious than she had ever before been for her father's return. Scarcely had May opened the door, when Mytton's shadow fell on the threshold; she had not heard his footsteps on the deep snow. The face of Silas was pale with excitement, even his lips were bloodless, and wild eagerness was in his eyes. He clutched in his hand a telegram paper, having met the bearer in the way. May saw at once that great tidings had arrived, but scarcely knew whether Mytton's strange manner betokened the excess of despair or of joy. She was not long left in doubt! With the loud exclamation, "I have it!" The inheritor of Mytton strode into the cottage up to the place where Amy was seated. Perhaps she had heard the exclamation of triumph, for there was a smile on her lips, but it might have been left there by a thought of deeper, sweeter joy than any that his tidings could give. Amy's expectations had been realised, she had entered on her inheritance of life, and peace, and bliss!