"Just what is there for Rhoda?" gasped Phoebe, apparently not at all elated by her change of position. "A poor, beggarly two thousand pounds!" burst out Rhoda. "'Tis a shame! And I always thought I was to have White-Ladies! I shall just be nobody now! Nobody will respect me, and I can never cut any figure. Well! I'm glad I am engaged to be married. That's safe, at any rate." The elevation of Mr Dawson's eyebrows, and the pursing of his lips, might have implied a query on that score. "I'm so sorry, dear!" said Phoebe, gently. "For you, of course, I mean. I could not be sorry that there was something for Mother, because she is not well off; but I am very sorry you are disappointed." "You can't help it!" was Rhoda's rather repelling answer. Still, through all her anger, she remembered to be just. "Certainly not, my dear Mrs Phoebe," said the lawyer. "'Tis nobody's fault--not even Madam Furnival's, for the new will would have given White-Ladies to Mrs Rhoda, and five thousand pounds to Mrs Anne Latrobe. Undoubtedly she intended, Mrs Rhoda, you should have it." "Then why can't I?" demanded Rhoda, fiercely. Mr Dawson shook his head, with a pitying smile. "The law knows nothing of intentions," said he: "only of deeds fully performed. Still, it may be a comfort in your disappointment, to remember that this was meant for you." "Thank you for your comfort!" said Rhoda, bitterly. "Why, it makes it all the worse." "I wish--" but Phoebe stopped short. "Oh, I don't blame you," said Rhoda, impetuously. "'Tis no fault of yours. If she'd done it now, lately, I might have thought so. But a will that was made before either you or me was born--" Rhoda's grammar always suffered from her excitement--"can't be your fault, nor anybody else's. But 'tis a shame, for all that. She'd no business to let me go on all these years, expecting to have everything, and knew all the while her will wasn't right made. 'Tis too bad! My Lady Betty!--Mrs Dorothy!--don't you think so?" "My dear," said Lady Betty, "I am indeed grieved for your disappointment. But there is decorum, my dear Mrs Rhoda--there is decorum!" "No, my dear," was Mrs Dorothy's answer. "I dare not call anything bad that the Lord doth. Had it been His will you should have White-Ladies, be sure you would have had it." "Well, you know," said Rhoda, in a subdued tone, and folding one of her black gauze ribbons into minute plaits, "of course, one can't complain of God." "Ah, child!" sighed Mrs Dorothy, "I wish one could not!" "O my dear Mrs Rhoda, I feel for you so dreadfully!" accompanied the tragically clasped hands of Mrs Clarissa. "My feelings are so keen, and run away with me so--" "Then let 'em!" said Mrs Jane Talbot's voice behind. "Mine won't. My dears, I'm sorry you've lost Madam. But as to the money and that, I'll wait ten years, and then I'll tell you which I'm sorry for."