Edith was the orphan child of Sir Jasper’s much loved and only sister, who did not long survive the death of her husband, and on her decease the Baronet had adopted the child, and as she grew up, her affectionate disposition and natural simplicity wound themselves round the old man’s heart, and thus she soon became the apple of his eye, and he loved her with all the tender solicitude of a father.

She was gentle and friendly to those beneath her, but dignified and firm with those of her own station of life, with a fund of good practical common sense, and was not easily dissuaded from doing any thing when she had once made up her mind that it was her duty so to do.  She loved her uncle well and was ever ready to minister to his slightest wishes.  She used to delight him with the rich tone of her voice by singing selections from his favorite operas, being an accomplished musician both vocal and instrumental.  They would frequently wander for hours through the park or woods, but of late he had restricted his walks to the lawn, or down the avenue to the lodge at the park gate, to hold converse with the keeper, an old soldier who had served under him in his Peninsular Campaigns, and often when relieved from the attendance on him would Edith and Arthur Carlton, hand in hand, stroll down the said avenue to listen to the wonderful stories related by the old lodge keeper.  But this was some time ago, for this youth (of which more will be heard anon) was now, and had been for some time, at College at Oxford.

“Edith my darling,” said the kind old man, bending over as he did so and tapping her soft rosy cheek, “my visit to London was purely a business one, and I delayed no longer than was necessary to complete it, but what I saw and heard during my journey to and fro, I will relate to, you in the evening.”

The lively girl was about to make some reply to her good natured uncle when a light rapping was heard; the door gently opened and a lady about five and thirty entered; she was attired in a dress of black silk of most undeniable Paris cut, which fitted her to a miracle; to Edith she made a slight inclination of the head so as not to disarrange her coiffure which was most elaborately got up doubtless with a view to produce an effect.

“I trust, Sir Jasper, you slept well after your tedious journey.”

“Very well, I thank you.  Oh!  I see you have the post bag, I am somewhat anxious about some letters I expect to receive.”

Moving around the back of the Baronet’s chair she came between him and Edith, who took the bag from her and held out her hand to her uncle for the key to open it with, as was her usual custom of a morning; the key was handed to her, and while they were thus engaged the eagle eye of the lady in black fell upon the will which was still lying partially exposed on the escritoire just as it had fallen from Sir Jasper’s hand ere he had sank into that reverie which had been disturbed by the entrance of Edith; she obtained but