To remain in the house of the man she so despised and whose proffered vows of love she had so indignantly rejected, was impossible.

Of the malady which was the cause of her uncle’s sudden death, she knew nothing.  He had never hinted of its existence, therefore she was totally unprepared and inexpressibly shocked at the suddenness with which he had been struck down, and it was some time before she could sufficiently subdue her agitated feelings to enable her to give any instructions to the household, who, like herself, had been almost stupefied by the calamity.

But not so with Mrs. Fraudhurst; that cold, unfeeling woman cared only for the safety of her own position, and had already arranged what she should do.  At her suggestion, no changes were made in the establishment.  Every servant was retained, and the business of the estate still left in the hands of Mr. Russell, the former agent, and matters soon resumed their usual routine, as though the late proprietor was merely absent on a visit.

Notwithstanding the precautions taken in order to prevent suspicion from gaining ground that there had been any complicity between Sir Ralph and the widow, which might account for the absence of any legal document making a suitable provision for that niece to whom Sir Jasper was so sincerely attached, there were many who could not divest themselves of the idea that there had been foul play practiced in some way, but as there was nothing tangible to go upon they were compelled to confine their suspicions within their own breasts, and show their sympathy for Miss Effingham by letters of condolence and offers of friendship and protection should she need them; for of course, it was understood by all that her position was materially altered by the apparent fact that Sir Jasper had died intestate.

Both Mrs. Fraudhurst and Sir Ralph were struck with the visible inroad that grief had made in the pale but still beautiful features of Edith, as she entered the drawing room for the first time since her uncle’s funeral.

The new Baronet rose as if to conduct her to a seat, but there was something in her eye and manner that checked him, and he contented himself with bowing to her somewhat stiffly, and resumed his chair.  She advanced toward the table at which he was seated, with a coolness and self-possession so natural to her, whenever placed in any awkward and trying position; her elegant figure fully developed by the tight fitting habit she wore, and the ringlets of her rich brown hair falling upon her magnificent shoulders from beneath her black riding hat, and in a voice calm, clear and distinct, but without the least bitterness or anger, thus addressed him:  “Sir Ralph Coleman, the law, I am told, pronounces you master of Vellenaux and its broad acres.  The death of my uncle has left me without a home, but, I trust, not without friends.  Do not interrupt me, sir,” said she, seeing that he was about to speak, “Your importunities