This note contained no expression of esteem or affection for the invalid, or regret at her approaching death. No! for Catherine’s veneration and sorrow were too earnest, too real, to be a matter of wordy formula. But in the evil heart of Georgia this simplicity was turned against the girl. And her first idea, revealed in her smile of satisfaction, was to show this mis-sent note to Archer Clifton, and bid him look and see with what perfect coolness and indifference the writer could announce the approaching demise of her benefactress. But while this thought was revolving in her mind, Satan suggested a surer plan—a deadly stratagem. And at this inspiration of the fiend, the dark face of the baleful woman lighted up with demoniac joy. She seized the note again, and rushed to the window, and scanned the hand-writing. Georgia inherited all the imitative talent of her father, the portrait painter. Catherine’s hand-writing was unique: small, square letters, with heavy strokes, a chirography peculiar to herself, yet easily imitated. Mrs. Georgia copied a few selected words—compared them with the originals, and was satisfied with her work. Next she wished to procure note paper, exactly like it. Catherine’s note was written upon neutral-tinted paper, that had been given her by Major Clifton. Mrs. Georgia recognized it as some that had belonged to him. She thought there might possibly be a few stray sheets in the writing-table of the library. She went thither, and after a diligent search, found a single sheet. This she took with her, and returned to her chamber, locked herself in, and sat down to her fiendish task. Perfectly imitating the hand-writing of Catherine, she forged the following letter: “DEAREST CARL:— “My long slavery is almost over. The old woman is at her last gasp, and wants you to come over this afternoon at four o’clock, to witness her will and my marriage. You see I have succeeded in catching the aristocrat, and in wheedling his mother into giving me Hardbargain, in my sole right. Am I not a triumphant diplomatist? When she is dead, and I am married, and mistress of White Cliffs and of Hardbargain, as I shall probably reside at the principal seat, I intend to let you this farm, on the easiest terms. Never fear Major Clifton’s interference. You know _I_ know how to manage him. “CATHERINE.” When she had completed her demon-work, Georgia carefully examined it. It satisfied her. She smiled, and muttered—“_Any one_ who ever saw Catherine’s queer hand-writing, would feel safe in swearing this to be hers.” Then she folded it in the form of the other note, and placed it in the original envelope—and threw it, broken-sealed as it was, upon the table, exclaiming—“There!— “‘I have set my life upon a cast, And will abide the hazard of the die.’” * * * * *