ly; she searched his face.

'Would it disappoint you very much, my child,' he continued,
sympathetically, 'if it turned out that he had either' altered his mind
or by some accident had neglected to make his will? I speak as your
father, Janey, and I think I have some knowledge of your character. I
think I know that you are as free from avarice as anyone could be.'

Was it true? he began to ask himself. Why, then, had her countenance
fallen? Why did such a look of deep distress pass over it?

'The fact is, Janey,' he continued, hardening himself a little as he
noted her expression, 'your grandfather left no will. The result--the
legal result--of that is, that all his property becomes--ah--mine.
He--in fact he destroyed his will a very short time, comparatively
speaking, before he died, and he neglected to make another.
Unfortunately, you see, under these circumstances we can't be sure what
his wish was.'

She was deadly pale; there was anguish in the look with which she
regarded her father.

'I'm very sorry it pains you so, my dear,' Joseph remarked, still more
coldly. 'I didn't think you were so taken up with the thought of money.
Really, Jane, a young girl at your time of life--'

'Father, father, how can you think that? It wasn't to be for myself; I
thought you knew; indeed you did know!'

'But you looked so very strange, my dear. Evidently you felt--'

'Yes--I feel it--I do feel it! But because it means that grandfather
couldn't get back his trust in me. Oh, it is too hard! When did he
destroy his will? When, father?'

'Ten days before his death.'

'Yes; that was when it happened. You never heard; he promised to tell
nobody. I disappointed him. I showed myself very foolish and weak
in--in something that happened then. I made grandfather think that I
was too selfish to live as he hoped--that I couldn't do what I'd
undertaken. That was why he destroyed his will. And I thought he had
forgiven me! I thought he trusted me again! O grandfather!'

Snowdon was astonished at the explanation of his own good luck, and yet
more at Jane's display of feeling. So quiet, so reserved as he had
always known her, she seemed to have become another person. For some
moments he could only gaze at her in wonder. Never yet had he heard,
never again would he hear, the utterance of an emotion so profound and
so noble.

'Jane--try and control yourself, my dear. Let's talk it over, Jane.'

'I feel as if it would break my heart. I