I understood he had gone abroad--till the other day--a short time ago--when I had a letter from him telling me that he was passing through Exeter." She clasped and unclasped her hands nervously.
"Ah! That was where he went when he told me he had gone in search of work!" she murmured--"Oh, David, David!" "He informed me then," proceeded Sir Francis, "that he had made his Will.

The Will is here,"-- and he took up a document lying on his desk--"The manner of its execution coincides precisely with the letter of instructions received, as I say, from Exeter--of course it will have to be formally proved----" She lifted her eyes wonderingly.
"What is it to me ?" she said--"I have nothing to do with it.

I have brought you the papers--but I am sorry--oh, so sorry to hear that he was not what he made himself out to be! I cannot think of him in the same way----" Sir Francis drew his chair closer to hers.
"Is it possible," he said--"Is it possible, my dear Miss Deane, that you do not understand ?" She gazed at him candidly.
"Yes, of course I understand," she said--"I understand that he was a rich man who played the part of a poor one--to see if any one would care for him just for himself alone--and--I--I--did care--oh, I did care!--and now I feel as if I couldn't care any more----" Her voice broke sobbingly, and Sir Francis Vesey grew desperate.
"Don't cry!" he said--"Please don't cry! I should not be able to bear it! You see I'm a business man"-- here he took off his spectacles and rubbed them vigorously--"and my position is that of the late Mr.David Helmsley's solicitor.

In that position I am bound to tell you the straight truth--because I'm afraid you don't grasp it at all.

It is a very overwhelming thing for you,--but all the same, I am sure, quite sure, that my old friend had reason to rely confidently upon your strength of character--as well as upon your affection for him----" She had checked her sobs and was looking at him steadily.
"And, therefore," he proceeded--"referring again to my own position--that of the late David Helmsley's solicitor, it is my duty to inform you that you, Mary Deane, are by his last Will and Testament, the late David Helmsley's sole heiress." She started up in terror.
"Oh no, no!--not me!" she cried.
"Everything which the late David Helmsley died possessed of, is left to you absolutely and unconditionally," went on Sir Francis, speaking with slow and deliberate emphasis--"And--even as he was one of the richest men, so you are now one of the richest women in the world!" She turned deathly white,--then suddenly, to his great alarm and confusion, dropped on her knees before him, clasping her hands in a passion of appeal.
"Oh, don't say that, sir!" she exclaimed--"Please, please don't say it! I cannot be rich--I would not! I should be miserable--I should indeed! Oh, David, dear old David! I'm sure he never wished to make me wretched--he was fond of me--he was, really! And we were so happy and peaceful in the cottage at home! There was so little money, but so much love! Don't say I'm rich, sir!--or, if I am, let me give it all away at once! Let me give it to the starving and sick people in this great city--or please give it to them for me,--but don't, don't say that I must keep it myself!--I could not bear it!--oh, I could not bear it! Help me, oh, do help me to give it all away and let me remain just as I am, quite, quite poor!".