“And, you say, sir, that my will might be successfully contested?” he asked, setting down his empty glass, and looking anxiously, half angrily, at the attorney. “I give it, sir, as my best digested legal opinion, that in the event of your death, should the will by which you bequeath all this vast property to your adopted daughter be contested, it would probably be set aside in favor of Alice Chester Hardcastle, the only living representative of the old Chester family, who have held the land from the first settlement of the country to the present time—upward of two hundred years. You know, sir, that the decision of the case would rest finally with the jury, and such are the prejudices in favor of wealth, rank, hereditary descent, and——” “Well! speak out—justice, you would add, I suppose,” said General Garnet, filling his glass and passing the bottle. The lawyer bowed. “Well, sir! what of these prejudices? Finish your sentence.” “That scarce a jury could be found to give a verdict against your legal daughter—a Chester—and in favor of your—I beg your pardon—adopted daughter—a stranger and an alien.” “Sir, you know nothing of the law. I shall seek better legal advice,” exclaimed General Garnet, bringing down his glass upon the table with a force that shivered it, and rising in an excited manner. “You may seek other, and find more palatable advice, sir. Our consultation ends here. I wish you good-evening, sir,” said the lawyer, rising and going to the door. “Stay!” said General Garnet, going after him. But the attorney bowed deeply and retired. General Garnet continued to pace up and down the floor, with a strange, excited manner, totally at variance with his usual serene self-possession. Frequently, also, he stopped—poured out and quaffed a glass of wine. At last, pausing, he struck his forehead, emphatically exclaiming: