younger, the vicar carried more weight, and with a sweep of his large shoulder pushed on, before the other’s attitude was secure. The result was therefore to the advantage of the vicar in this brief preliminary encounter. Mrs. John had placed herself in a comfortable chair near the fire, with her handkerchief and smelling-bottle ready. Mary was more in the open, so to speak, with her mother seated near; Agnes standing by her chair, and the doctor behind. There was little remark as Mr. Blotting read and expounded the will, to which, indeed, no one paid very much attention. They were all tolerably acquainted with its scope and conditions before. “The chief point to be settled,” said the man of business, “as circumstances may make certain of the late lord’s stipulations impossible, is the future custody and care of poor little Lord Frogmore. I think it may all be managed amicably among us, which would be so much better than any public interference with what the testator wished. I feel sure he would prefer that we should carry out the spirit of his instructions in good intelligence among ourselves.” “Mr. Blotting,” said Lady Frogmore, “may I be allowed to speak?” She was the only one to whom the will had been at all new, and she had received it with little gestures of assent and nods of her head. “Surely, Lady Frogmore, whatever you may wish to say.” “It is just this,” said Mary. “I agree in all my dear lord says. If there had been--a child. These things,” she said with an old maidenly blush dying her countenance for a moment, “have always, I believe, to be taken into consideration; but there was, you see, no child----” “Not when the will was written: but a prospect of one, Lady Frogmore.” “People don’t make settlements upon prospects,” said Mary with a gleam of shrewdness. “Do you think he would have left it like that, if it had come to anything? My dear lord was far more careful of my comfort than that. It is clearly understood, then, that there was no child?” “Not then,” said Mr. Blotting. “Not then,” said Mary, “nor ever. Why, what time was that?” The lawyer read out the date, “Nearly six years ago.” She had been unmoved by the figures, but started slightly at this. “Six years! We have not been married--half that time----” “Oh, yes, my dear Mary,” said Mrs. Hill; “going on for seven years. You see you have been so long away, such a long time away--more than five years.” “My dear,” said the vicar, “never mind about dates. Mary must be kept quite calm----” She glanced round, with a wondering, troubled look.