g--in dear papa's grave," cried the poor lady,
once more breaking down. Mr Wentworth took no notice of Miss
Wodehouse's tears. They moved him with sentiments entirely different
from those with which he regarded Lucy's. He read the note over again
without any attempt to console her, till she had struggled back into
composure; but even then there was nothing sympathetic in the Curate's
voice.

"And I think you told me you did not know anything about the will?" he
said, with some abruptness, making no account whatever of the
suggestion she had made.

"No," said Miss Wodehouse; "but my dear father was a business man, Mr
Wentworth, and I feel quite sure--quite--"

"Yes," said the Perpetual Curate; "nor of the nature of his property,
perhaps?" added the worldly-minded young man whom poor Miss Wodehouse
had chosen for her adviser. It was more than the gentle woman could
bear.

"Oh, Mr Wentworth, you know I am not one to understand," cried the
poor lady. "You ask me questions, but you never tell me what you think
I should do. If it were only for myself, I would not mind, but I have
to act for Lucy," said the elder sister, suddenly sitting upright and
drying her tears. "Papa, I am sure, did what was best for us," she
said, with a little gentle dignity, which brought the Curate back to
his senses; "but oh, Mr Wentworth, look at the letter, and tell me,
for my sister's sake, what am I to do?"

The Curate went to the window, from which the sunshine was stealing
away, to consider the subject; but he did not seem to derive much
additional wisdom from that sacred spot, where Lucy's work-table stood
idle. "We must wait and see," he said to himself. When he came back to
Miss Wodehouse, and saw the question still in her eyes, it only
brought back his impatience. "My dear Miss Wodehouse, instead of
speculating about what is to happen, it would be much better to
prepare your sister for the discovery she must make to-morrow," said
Mr Wentworth; "I cannot give any other advice, for my part. I think it
is a great pity that you have kept it concealed so long. I beg your
pardon for speaking so abruptly, but I am afraid you don't know all
the trouble that is before you. We are all in a great deal of
trouble," said the Perpetual Curate, with a little unconscious
solemnity. "I can't say I see my way through it; but you ought to
prepare her--to see--her brother." He said the words with a degree of
repugnance which he could not conceal, and w