I have some embarrassment in speaking to you of another aspect of this case, and can only hope you will think I acted for the best. You will remember that immediately after your uncle’s death, I sent you a copy of the will as it was filed for probate. But when it came to a hearing I found that the court utterly refused to allow probate of a will which contained as a most important part the contents of a sealed letter, left in my custody, and the purport of which was unknown to the court. His honor intimated that he considered the will ridiculous in tenor and inartificial in structure; and that it was at least questionable whether the residuary devise was not void, as dependent upon a condition in restraint of marriage. It was in vain that I cited the case where a man chalked his will upon his own barn-door, and the barn-door having been brought into court and copied was allowed to be replaced upon its hinges. The court wholly objected to being made, as it were, a confidant of Mr. Austin’s love projects; and insisted that the sealed letter should be opened then and there, and read to the court, and appended to the will and filed away with it. Accordingly this was done. But I conceived that I should be best following out the wishes of your uncle and my old friend by not telling you of this. Suspecting that it would never occur to you to inspect the court records, the reporters were paid for their silence, and although you might at any time during the past eleven years have read this sealed envelope, your continued absence abroad leads me to hope that you have never done so. I am, sir, with great respect, Faithfully yours, J. VESEY, JR. Austin May dropped the letter from his hands and looked at May. “I might have known it any time these eleven years,” said he. “Known what?” said she, picking up the enclosure, which had fluttered to the floor. “Perhaps it is as well,” gasped Austin; and he shuddered as he thought of Mrs. Terwilliger and the scheming Countess. He took the paper from May’s hands and read as follows: