se to think that the Lord
Almighty would never let it go on like that! It couldn't be that Mr
Henry Jones was to remain always landlord of Llanfeare."

When she came downstairs and took her seat, as she did by chance,
in the old arm-chair which her uncle had been used to occupy, Mr
Apjohn preached to her another sermon, or rather sang a loud paean of
irrepressible delight.

"Now, my dear, I must go and leave you,--happily in your own house.
You can hardly realise how great a joy this has been to me,--how
great a joy it is."

"I know well how much we owe you."

"From the first moment in which he intimated to me his wish to make
a change in his will, I became so unhappy about it as almost to lose
my rest. I knew that I went beyond what I ought to have done in the
things that I said to him, and he bore it kindly."

"He was always kind."

"But I couldn't turn him. I told him what I told you to-day on the
road, but it had no effect on him. Well, I had nothing to do but to
obey his orders. This I did most grudgingly. It was a heartbreak
to me, not only because of you, my dear, but for the sake of the
property, and because I had heard something of your cousin. Then came
the rumour of this last will. He must have set about it as soon as
you had left the house."

"He never told me that he was going to do it."

"He never told any one; that is quite certain. But it shows how his
mind must have been at work. Perhaps what I said may have had some
effect at last. Then I heard from the Cantors what they had been
asked to do. I need not tell you all that I felt then. It would have
been better for him to send for me."

"Oh, yes."

"So much better for that poor young man's sake." The poor young man
was of course Cousin Henry. "But I could not interfere. I could only
hear what I did hear,--and wait. Then the dear old man died!"

"I knew then that he had made it."

"You knew that he had thought that he had done it; but how is one to
be sure of the vacillating mind of an old dying man? When we searched
for the one will and read the other, I was very sure that the Cantors
had been called upon to witness his signature. Who could doubt as
to that? But he who had so privately drawn out the deed might as
privately destroy it. By degrees there grew upon me the conviction
that he had not destroyed it; that it still existed,--or that your
cousin had destroyed it. The latter I never quite believed. He was
not the man to do it,--nei