Mrs. Ritchie had watched over Lelia’s slumbers again, and gone through the same startling experience of the previous night. Her maternal heart quaked with terror; she fought her doubts and fears with passion. But on Lelia’s angry complaints of her husband’s coldness she had reluctantly disclosed a portion of the truth. “Your nerves are all distraught by the tragic death of Gipsy Darke, and in your sleep you accuse yourself in disjointed ravings of her murder.” “No, no!” cried Lelia, horror-stricken. “It is too true, my dear, horrible as it seems, and innocent as I know you to be--but Laurie Willoughby must never hear these strange ravings of your disordered mind. Let him keep aloof until your nerves become quiet and you cease to talk in your sleep. Tonight I shall pretend illness and ask you to watch by me. You understand?” “Oh, yes, yes, mama, I will do what you say. Of course, I am very nervous and have terrible dreams,” acquiesced Lelia in a terrible fright at her mother’s revelations. No, no; Laurie must not hear those self-accusing dreams for the world. She would be guided by her mother’s advice until her nerves grew strong again, and then Laurie should take her on a bridal-tour and she would win back his heart. She was thoroughly frightened, indeed, and gave over her reproaches of Laurie, deeming it best, as her mother said, to let him hold aloof a while. That afternoon the lawyer, who had come over from Lewisburg to the funeral and remained to read the will, requested the family’s presence in the library while he went over the important document. The near kin of the family were all present, the general, his son, Mrs. Ritchie and her daughter. Lawyer Gilmer cleared his throat and remarked: “I suppose Miss Willoughby never confided to any of you that she had made a new will within the past month?” Ejaculations of surprise came from every one. “It is a fact,” he said, continuing: “Within a few days after the assembling of the house-party that was so disastrously broken up by the disappearance of Miss Darke, Miss Willoughby sent for me and had me make a new will quite different in its provisions from the old one.” No one knew whether to be startled or not, but the old gentleman muttered: “This is very strange.” Mrs. Ritchie added anxiously: “I hope she has not left her money to found a hospital or anything like that?” “Nothing of the kind, madam,” returned the lawyer courteously, while Lelia snapped impatiently: “If she had we could have broken the will, of course--she was old and very likely of infirm mind.” The lawyer answered calmly: “Doctor White, who witnessed the will, knows that her mind was strong and vigorous up to the time of the seizure that cost her her life.” “Go on, let us hear the new will!” cried Lelia, almost ready to snatch it from him in her eagerness. And, breaking the seal of the document, the lawyer obeyed.