It seemed to
have come home to her quite clearly here in this dreadful desolate place,
here in the very shadow of an awful death, that she did love him, truly
and deeply. And that being so, she would not have been what she was--a
gentle-natured, devoted woman--had she not at heart rejoiced at this
opportunity of self-sacrifice, even though that self-sacrifice was of the
hardest sort, seeing that it involved what all women hate--the endurance
of a ridiculous position. For love can do all things: it can even make
its votaries brave ridicule.

"Go on," she said sharply, "and let us get it over as soon as possible."

"Very well, Miss. What is it to be, old gentleman? Cut it short, you
know."

"'_I leave all my property to Eustace H. Meeson_,' that's as short as I
can get it; and, if properly witnessed, I think that it will cover
everything," said Mr. Meeson, with a feeble air of triumph. "Anyhow, I
never heard of a will that is to carry about two millions being got into
nine words before."

Bill poised his fishbone, and, next second, Augusta gave a start and a
little shriek, for the operation had begun.

"Never mind, Miss," said Bill, consolingly; "you'll soon get used to it."

After that Augusta set her teeth and endured in silence, though it really
hurt her very much, for Bill was more careful of the artistic effect and
the permanence of the work than of the feelings of the subject. _Fiat
experimentum in corpore vili_, he would have said had he been conversant
with the Classics, without much consideration for the _corpus vile_. So
he pricked and dug away with his fishbone, which he dipped continually in
the cuttle-ink, and with the sharp piece of wood, till Augusta began to
feel perfectly faint.

For three hours the work continued, and at the end of that time the body
of the will was finished--for Bill was a rapid worker--being written in
medium-sized letters right across her shoulders. But the signatures yet
remained to be affixed.

Bill asked her if she would like to let them stand over till the
morrow?--but this, although she felt ill with the pain she declined to
do. She was marked now, marked with the ineffaceable mark of Bill, so she
might as well be marked to some purpose. If she put off the signing of
the document till the morrow, it might be too late, Mr. Meeson might be
dead, Johnnie might have changed his mind, or a hundred things. So she
told them to go on and finish it as quickly as possible, for th