he old man's handwriting, and clearly of his
composition. But it was plain enough, and the signatures genuine.
'Lizabeth's hand dropped.

"I never knew a word o' this, William," she said humbly.

Mrs. Transom broke into an incredulous titter.

"Ugh! get along, you designer!"

"William," appealed 'Lizabeth, "I've never had no thought o' robbin'
you."

'Lizabeth had definite notions of right and wrong, and this
disinheritance of William struck her conservative mind as a violation of
Nature's laws.

William's silence was his wife's opportunity.

"Robbery's the word, you baggage! You thought to buy him wi' your
ill-got gains. Ugh! go along wi' you!"

'Lizabeth threw a desperate look towards the cause of this trouble--the
pale mask lying on the pillows. Finding no help, she turned to William
again--

"You believe I meant to rob you?"

Meeting her eyes, William bent his own on the floor, and lied.

"I reckon you meant to buy me, Cousin 'Lizabeth."

His wife tittered spitefully.

"Woman!" cried the girl, lapping up her timid merriment in a flame of
wrath. "Woman, listen to me. Time was I loved that man o' your'n; time
was he swore I was all to him. He was a liar from his birth. It's your
natur' to think I'm jealous; a better woman would know I'm _sick_--sick
wi' shame an' scorn o' mysel'. That man, there, has kissed me, oft'n
an' oft'n--kissed me 'pon the mouth. Bein' what you are, you can't
understand how those kisses taste now, when I look at _you_."

"Well, I'm sure!"

"Hold your blasted tongue!" roared William. Mrs. Transom collapsed.

"Give me the candle," 'Lizabeth commanded. "Look here--"

She held the corner of the will to the flame, and watched it run up at
the edge and wrap the whole in fire. The paper dropped from her hand to
the bare boards, and with a dying flicker was consumed. The charred
flakes drifted idly across the floor, stopped, and drifted again.
In dead silence she looked up.

Mrs. Transom's watery eyes were open to their fullest. 'Lizabeth turned
to William and found him regarding her with a curious frown.

"Do you know what you've done?" he asked hoarsely.

'Lizabeth laughed a trifle wildly.

"I reckon I've made reparation."

"There was no call--" began William.

"You fool--'twas to _myself!_ An' now," she added quietly, "I'll pick
up my things and tramp down to Hooper's Farm; they'll give me a place, I
know, an' be glad o' the chance. They'll be sittin' up