Cecilia sank back, almost fainting in her chair: her sole hope was now annihilated; and in its stead there remained to her only the bitter—bitter conviction that she had been deceived by Reginald in that last transaction which took place between them. "No, madam—no," continued the lawyer, with a smile of the most cutting contempt: "if that unhappy man had bequeathed you any thing, it would have been his curse—his withering, dying curse!" "Oh! do not say _that_," screamed Cecilia, now really appalled by the energetic language of that man who was so unsparing in his duty to the memory of his friend. "Ah! I am rejoiced that your ladyship at last feels the full force of that infamy which has accomplished the ruin of a man once so good, so upright, so honourable, so happy! But you are, no doubt, curious to know how your victim has disposed of that wealth of which you would have plundered him had he not been so suddenly stopped in his mad career? I will tell you. He has bequeathed it to that young girl who so nearly suffered for _his_ crime—to Katherine Wilmot, who was so unjustly accused of the enormity which _he_ perpetrated!" Lady Cecilia wept with rage, shame, and disappointment. "Weep, madam, weep," rang the iron voice of that stern denunciator once more in her ears: "weep—for you have good cause! Not for the wealth of the universe would I harbour the feelings which ought to be—_must_ be yours at this moment." A pause ensued, which was interrupted by the entrance of a clerk who whispered something in the lawyer's ear, and then withdrew. "I request your ladyship to have the goodness to remain here until my return," said Mr. Wharton. "I shall not keep you long." The lawyer passed into the outer office; and Cecilia was now alone. The reader can scarcely require to be reminded that this lady was not one who was likely to remain long depressed by a moral lesson, however severe its nature. Scarcely had the lawyer left her, when she raised her head, and thought within herself, "I have been deceived—cruelly deceived; and if I did Reginald any wrong, he is amply avenged. One thing seems certain—he has retained the secret of the means by which he obtained the poison. He has not compromised me there; or else this harsh man would have been only too glad to throw _that_ also in my teeth. Thus, my position might have been worse!" Such was the substance of Lady Cecilia Harborough's musing during the absence of the lawyer. This absence lasted nearly a quarter of an hour; and then he returned to the office. He held an open letter in his hand. "Lady Cecilia Harborough," he said, in a tone of increased sternness, "the measure of your guilt is now so full, that justice demands an explanation at your hands." "Justice, sir!" faltered the frail woman, an icy coldness striking to her heart. "Yes, madam," answered the lawyer; "and even from the grave will the wrongs of Reginald Tracy cry out against you."