Markson closed his eyes, and never opened them again; and his last act, before going out of the world, was to give my hand a squeeze, which, under the circumstances, I could not help believing was an honest one.

As his hand relaxed, I felt that I had better give place to those who had a right to it, so I quietly retired.  Helen fell on her knees by his bedside, but Mrs. Markson followed me out of the room.

“Mr. Raines,” said she, with a very pleasant smile for a woman widowed but a moment before, “what did my dear husband want?”

Now, I am an honest man and a Church-member—­and I was one then, and believed in truth and straightforwardness just as much as I do now—­but, somehow, when such a person speaks to me, I feel as if I were all of a sudden a velvet-pawed cat myself.  So I answered, with the straightest of faces: 

“Only to see to one of the sills of the house, ma’am, and he made me solemnly swear to do it right away.  He was an extraordinary man, ma’am, to think of the good of his family up to the last moment.”

“Ah, yes, dear man!” said she, with a sigh which her face plainly showed came from nowhere deeper than her lips.  “I hope it won’t take long, though,” she continued, “for I can’t endure noise in the house.”

“Not more than an hour,” I replied.

“Oh, I’m glad to hear it!” said she.  “Perhaps, then, you might do it while we are at the funeral, day after to-morrow?  We will be gone at least two hours.”

“Easily, ma’am,” said I, with my heart in my mouth at the idea of managing the matter so soon, and having the papers for Helen as soon as, in any sort of decency, Mrs. Markson would be likely to have the old will read.

For the rest of the day I was so absent-minded to everything except this business of Markson’s that my acquaintances remarked that, considering how long I had been gone, I didn’t seem very glad to see any one.

Finally I went to old Judge Bardlow, who was as true as steel, and told him the whole story, and he advised me to get the papers, and give them to him to examine.  So, on the day of the funeral, I entered the house with a mallet and a mortizing chisel, and within fifteen minutes I had in my pocket the package Markson had put in the sill years before, and was hurrying to the judge’s office.

He informed me that Mrs. Markson’s lawyer, from the city, had called on him that very morning, and invited him to be present at the reading of the will in the afternoon, so he would be able to put things in proper shape at once.

I was more nervous all that day than I ever was in waiting to hear from an estimate.  It was none of my business, to be sure; but I longed to see Mrs. Markson punished for the mischief which I and every one else believed she had done her husband; and I longed to see Helen, whom every one liked, triumph over her stepmother, who, still young and gay, was awfully jealous of Helen’s beauty and general attractiveness.