The injustice was too palpable.  It was almost incomprehensible to me how he had been wrought upon to do these things—­he, “a just man made perfect.”  All this flashed stunningly across my brain.  Suddenly I threw my hand wildly to my head—­the whirl of waters was in my ears; yet I struggled against the surging tide, and Claude Bainrothe’s grasp upon my hand strengthened and revived me.  I was roused from my apathy by hearing Mr. Gerald Stanbury’s loud, sonorous voice speaking out clearly:  “I decline to serve, Mr. Bainrothe, after that erasure.  You understand that, of course.  It was a farce to send for me to-day, tinder these circumstances.”

“How could I know, my dear sir, that this erasure had been made?” was the soft and specious rejoinder.  “It must have been done in the last few months.  This will was drawn up in August last.  I was ignorant of the whole subsequent proceeding, and at that time Mr. Monfort laid peculiar stress on your coincidence as executor.  Has any thing occurred since that time to mar your good understanding?”

“Nothing of any consequence,” said Mr. Stanbury, coldly—­“nothing bearing on the esteem of man for man.  Nevertheless, Mr. Monfort, as we all know, was a man easy to offend and difficult to appease, and I suppose” (he swallowed hard as he spoke) “he weighed old friendship and some good offices as nothing against his wounded self-love, and against the flatterers who beset him with their snares.”

“Sir, you intend to be insulting, no doubt,” Mr. Bainrothe observed, with a semblance of calm dignity; “but it is not on such an occasion as this, and in the disinterested discharge of my duty, that I will suffer myself to be ruffled by the bitter injustice of an irritable and disappointed old man.”

“Be guarded, Mr. Bainrothe,” Mr. Stanbury rejoined, “in your expressions to me, or I will look into that illegal erasure and still stand to my oar in this golden galley of yours, in which you expect to float with the stream, and so soon to have every thing your own way.  I like plain sailing, sir; am a plain, straightforward man myself, to whom truth is second nature; and, were it not for the violence it might do the feelings of the person chiefly concerned in this testament, so soon to be allied to you and yours, if I understand things properly and report speaks truly, I would defy you, Mr. Basil Bainrothe, in the public courts, and claim my executorship under the wing of the law.”

Mr. Bainrothe had turned ashy pale during the deliverance of this fiery rebuke.  But he controlled himself admirably, merely contenting himself with saying, in a low voice:  “No threats, if you please, Mr. Stanbury; act out your intentions when and where you choose, but have consideration just now for the feelings of others.”  And he waved his hand, trembling with rage, toward me, including in his gesture Evelyn, who by this time was beside me with her salts, chafing my hands.  “I am sure we are all