“How could he do it?” thought the unconventional and weeping heiress.  “Oh, how could he congratulate me on an inheritance which came, and could only have come, through my dear father’s decease!” Then in a voice broken with emotion, she said: 

“Thanks, Mr. Kage.  Will you please now to read my dear papa’s letter?—­since you are to read it aloud, I think,” she added.

“Such was the deceased Sir Lemuel’s direction, my dear Miss Levison,” said the lawyer.  And returning to his place at the head of the table, he took the letter from the japanned box, opened it, and said: 

“This letter from my late honored client to his daughter was committed by the late Sir Lemuel Levison to my charge to be retained and read after the will, in the event of a circumstance which has already occurred—­I mean the sudden and unexpected death of the writer.  The letter will explain itself.”

Here the lawyer cleared his throat, and began to read: 

“ELMHURST HOUSE, Kensington, London,

“Monday, May 1st, 18—.

“MY DEAREST ONLY CHILD:  Blessings on your head!  Nothing could have made me happier, than has your betrothal to so admirable a young man as the Marquis of Arondelle.  Had I possessed the privilege of choosing a husband for you, and a son-in-law for myself, from the whole race of mankind, I should have chosen him above all others.  But, my dearest Salome, the satisfaction I enjoy in your prospects of happiness is shadowed by one faint cloud.  It is not much, my love; it is only the consciousness of my age and of the precarious state of my health.  I may not live to see you united to the noble husband of your choice.  Therefore it is that I have urged your speedy marriage with what your good chaperon, Lady Belgrade, evidently considers indecorous haste.  She must continue to think it indecorous, because unreasonable.  I cannot, and will not, darken your sunshine of joy, by giving to you now the real reason of my precipitation—­the extremely precarious state of my health.  Yet, in the event of my being suddenly taken from you, I must prepare this letter to be delivered to you after my death, that you may know my last wishes.  If I live to see you wedded to the good Lord Arondelle, this paper shall be torn up and destroyed; if not, if I should be suddenly snatched away from you before your wedding-day, this letter will be read to you, after my will shall have been read, in the presence of your betrothed husband, your good chaperon and your assembled household, that you and they and all may know my last wishes concerning you, and that none shall dare to blame you for obeying them, even though in doing so you have to pursue a very unusual course.  My wish, therefore, is that your marriage with Lord Arondelle may not be delayed for a day upon account of my death; but that it take place at the time fixed or as soon thereafter as practicable.  In giving these directions, I feel sure that I am consulting the wishes of Lord Arondelle, the best interests of yourself, and the happiness of both.  Follow my directions, therefore, my dearest daughter, and may the blessing of our Father in Heaven rest upon you and yours, is the prayer of