news to her myself; then she can come to you at once. I have a very
particular appointment in the city this afternoon, but I shall arrange
to spend to-morrow forenoon here, and examine the contents of that
bureau. I have thought it well to take possession of your uncle's keys."

"Yes, of course," said Katherine; "you ought to have them. And you will
go and send my mother to me! I shall feel quite well and strong if she
is near. How good of you to think of it!" and she raised her dark
tearful eyes so gratefully to his that the worthy lawyer's heart kindled
within him.

"My dear young lady, I have rarely, if ever, regretted anything so much
as my unfortunate absence yesterday, though had I been able to answer my
late client's first summons, I doubt if time would have permitted the
completion of a new will. Now my best hope, though it is a very faint
one, is that he may have destroyed his last will, and so died
intestate."

"Why?" asked Katherine, indifferently. She felt very hopeless.

"It would be better for you. You would, I rather think, be the natural
heir." Katherine only shook her head. "Of course it is not likely.
Still, I have known him destroy one will before he made another. He has
made four or five, to my knowledge. So it is wiser not to hope for
anything. I shall always do what I can for you. Now you are quite cold
and shivering. I would advise your going to your room, and keeping there
out of the way. You can do no more for your uncle, and I will send your
mother to you as soon as I can. I suppose you have the keys of the
house?"

Katherine bowed her head. She seemed tongue-tied. Only when Mr. Newton
took her hand to say good-by she burst out, "You will send my mother to
me soon--soon!"

Then she went away to her own room. Locking the door, she sat down and
buried her face in the cushions of the sofa. She felt her thoughts in
the wildest confusion, as if some separate exterior self was exerting a
strange power over her. It had said to her, "Be silent," when Mr. Newton
spoke of the possibility of _not_ finding the will, and she had obeyed
without the smallest intention to do good or evil. Some force she could
not resist--or rather she did not dream of resisting--imposed silence on
her. To what had this silence committed her? To nothing. When Mr. Newton
came and examined the bureau he would no doubt open the drawer of the
writing-table also. She had locked it, and put the key in the little
basket where t