This paper--but it is no more than just that you, sir, should see and read it first." And with a hand that quivered with fear or some equally strong emotion, she put it in his clasp.
The exclamation that rewarded the act made us all start forward.

"My father's handwriting!" were his words.
"Executed under my eye," observed Mrs.Daniels.
His glance ran rapidly down the sheet and rested upon the final signature.
"Why has this been kept from me ?" demanded he, turning upon Mrs.Daniels with sternness.
"Your father so willed it," was her reply.

"'For a year' was his command, 'you shall keep this my last will and testament which I give into your care with my dying hands, a secret from the world.

At the expiration of that time mark if my son's wife sits at the head of her husband's table; if she does and is happy, suppress this by deliberately giving it to the flames, but if from any reason other than death, she is not seen there, carry it at once to my son, and bid him as he honors my memory, to see that my wishes as there expressed are at once carried out.'" The paper in Mr.Blake's hand fluttered.
"You are aware what those wishes are ?" said he.
"I steadied his hand while he wrote," was her sad and earnest reply.
Mr.Blake turned with a look of inexpressible deference to his wife.
"Madame," said he "when I urged you with such warmth to join your fate to mine and honor my house by presiding over it, I thought I was inviting you to share the advantages of wealth as well as the love of a lonely man's heart.

This paper undeceives me.