"How long have
you been here?" she gasped.
"Quite--five--minutes," whispered the girl.
"And you have seen--" The mother looked into the daughter's eyes
fearfully, not daring to utter the words trembling on her lips.
"I saw you change the--the will!" whispered Claire, in a terror-stricken
voice. "I saw you erase with a green fluid, which must have been a most
powerful chemical, the words of the will, 'to my daughter Faynie' in the
sentence: 'I bequeath all of my estate, both personal and real,' and
insert therein the words, 'my wife, Margaret' in place of 'my daughter
Faynie.'"
The woman stepped forward and clutched the girl's arm.
"It was for your sake, Claire, that I did it," she whispered, shrilly;
"he cut us off with almost nothing, giving all to that proud daughter
Faynie of his. We would have had to step out into the world--beggars
again. We know what it is to be poor--ay, in want; we could never endure
it again--death would be easier for both of us.
"The will was drawn two years ago; I am confident that it is the
latest--that there is no other.
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