ordinary person indeed.

"Your aunt," he began in quite a different tone, "has left her property to
Mr. Martin Howe."

Lucy recoiled.

"To whom?"

"To Martin Howe."

There was an oppressive pause.

"To Martin Howe?" the girl stammered at length. "But there must be some
mistake."

Mr. Benton met her gaze kindly.

"I fear there is no mistake, my dear young lady," he said.

"Oh, I don't mean because my aunt has cut me off," Lucy explained with
pride. "She of course had a right to do what she pleased. But to leave the
property to Martin Howe! Why, she would scarcely speak to him."

"So I have gathered," the lawyer said. "That is what makes the will so
remarkable."

"It is preposterous! Martin will never accept it in the world."

"That contingency is also provided for," put in Mr. Benton.

"How?"

"The property is willed to the legatee--house, land, and money--to be
personally occupied by said beneficiary and not sold, deeded, or given
away on the conditions--a very unusual condition this second one----"
Again Mr. Benton stopped, his thumbs and finger neatly pyramided into a
miniature squirrel cage, over the top of which he regarded his client
meditatively. His reverie appeared to be intensely interesting.

"Very unusual indeed," he presently concluded absently.

"Well?" demanded Lucy.

"Ah, yes, Miss Webster," he continued, starting at the interrogation. "As
I was saying, the conditions made by the deceased are unusual--peculiar,
in fact, if I may be permitted to say so. The property goes to Mr. Martin
Howe on the condition that in six months' time he personally rebuilds the
wall lying between the Howe and Webster estates and now in a state of
dilapidation."

"He will never do it," burst out Lucy indignantly, springing to her feet.

"In that case the property goes unreservedly to the town of Sefton Falls,"
went on Mr. Benton in an even tone, "to be used as a home for the
destitute of the county."

The girl clinched her hands. It was a trap,--a last, revengeful, defiant
act of hatred.

The pity that any one should go down into the grave with such bitterness
of heart was the girl's first thought.

Then the cleverness of the old woman's plot began to seep into her mind.
All unwittingly Martin Howe was made a party in a diabolical scheme to
defraud her--the woman who loved him--of her birthright, of the home that
should have been hers.

The only way he could restore to her what was her own was to