A bombshell from an enemy’s camp, exploding in their midst, could not have created a greater sensation. Gipsy Darke, the nameless gipsy waif, the despised dependent, neglected and scorned, handed on from one compassionate hand to another till she became Miss Willoughby’s protégée, had cunningly worked her way to the old woman’s heart, supplanting her relatives and legal heirs--she the heiress? Oh, it was impossible! The thought was hideous, odious! Yet Lawyer Gilmer had read it thus in the will, and he sat silent now with a very non-committal air, probably enjoying their discomfiture. Mrs. Ritchie was the first to find her voice. She almost shrieked: “I always said so--you know I did, general! I said, over and over, that Gipsy Darke, in our absence from The Crags, would worm herself into that silly old maid’s soft heart! I said often that the gipsy brat ought to be sent away in time, but no one heeded me except Lelia, and we two could do nothing alone! Now the hateful schemer has robbed us all of our due, and----” “Speak no ill of the dead!” interrupted Laurie sternly. She glared at him mutinously, but the lawyer here interposed, saying: “I can assure you that the heiress of Miss Willoughby’s money had no idea of her good fortune, for it was a secret from all but myself and Doctor White, who witnessed the will.” “But how did my sister arrive at so strange a conclusion--to disinherit her own kith and kin in favor of her protégée?” inquired the general testily. “Just as the will has already narrated; because she admired the young lady’s true womanliness of character, loved her for her dutifulness, and was grateful because she had saved the lives of two of her dearest relatives,” returned the lawyer, adding: “Miss Willoughby first declared her intention of adopting Miss Darke at once and presenting her to the world as her heiress, but I persuaded her not to spring the sensation then, but to be content with naming her in her will. She took my advice, but decided that in the future she would give the young girl an easier and happier position in the household, more like a daughter or younger sister’s place. As we have seen, death stepped in and frustrated her kindly plans.” The lawyer rather enjoyed the sensation he was creating. He did not admire the proud Lelia who, he saw, had counted on being the heiress. But as if a sudden rift had appeared in the cloud, Mrs. Ritchie cried out gladly: “But Miss Darke being dead, the will is null and void, and the money reverts to Miss Willoughby’s lawful heirs.” “I beg your pardon, there is no proof of Miss Darke’s death. She may be alive somewhere, and the news of her inheritance may result in her reappearance,” suavely returned the lawyer. Oh, how Lelia repented then that to save the sensation and gloom of a funeral, she had cast poor Gipsy’s body into the old well. Now she realized her terrible mistake.