'There now, don't!' she exclaimed, turning away her face, and Allan shrank back. 'Playing with me, after all--after all!' he muttered. 'Will you please to look at the opinion of counsel,' he added, drawing from his pocket a folio document, stitched with a red thread, and with a broad margin. 'What a long story!' she exclaimed, as she glanced at and read, 'Chambers, Edinburgh. 'Copy of Counsel's opinion referred to in letter of 20th October, 1882, on the will of the late Oliver Raymond, Esq, of Jamaica, with note of fees thereon.' 'What a fearful long story!' exclaimed Olive again. 'Tell me all about it, Allan? but pray don't read it.' 'The will of your father is herein denounced as eccentric--one that no court of law would enforce, nor could uphold, as in more than one instance it is not conceived in strictly legal terms, and, to all intents and purposes, can be put aside if you choose. Thus, Olive, you are free--free from all the bonds--if such ever existed--that seemed to bind you to me; and I thank God that it is so, and I shall go to Egypt, perhaps, with a lighter heart. All that now remains to be done is to take the means, if such are necessary, to have the document set aside as so much waste paper, and you duly made mistress of your inheritance, as you are now of age, in England, at least, where it is invested. Thus, you see, Olive, this opinion of counsel is most valuable to you.' Her soft eyes were brimming over with tears now, as she mechanically took the document in her tremulous fingers. 'And thus you relinquish me?' she said. 'I relinquish, gladly, your fortune, and all control over your actions, if--you choose.' 'But I don't choose! Oh, Allan, how generous all this is of you. But I shall not be less so, nor will I act upon this opinion of counsel.' 'How?' 'See, thus!' And, tearing it into pieces, she cast them into the fire-grate. 'Illegal as it may be, papa's will must be now a law to me more than ever.' 'And you, Olive?' 'Love you, dear Allan, and love you dearly,' cried the wilful and impulsive girl, as all her heart went forth to him, and he pressed her to his breast at last. Doubt, pride, defiance, and petulance had all passed away, and Olive was all softness, love, and joy now; and to the pair time seemed for a term to stand still, and save their caressing words softly murmured, and the twitter of birds among the ivy without, silence appeared to reign in this room; and nothing seemed to disturb them, till Olive suddenly started from Allan's arms. 'What is it, love?' he asked. 'A face at the window!' 'Whose face?' 'I know not,' she replied, with some agitation. 'It has just vanished.' She thought, nay, she was sure, it had the features of Hawke Holcroft, but she did not _say_ so. If it were he, how much had he overheard, how much overseen!