“Yes,” answered Nina; “there was one that had in it something about straight jackets, and when I read it, I hit my head against the bureau.  It’s never been quite right since.  Is this the letter that made Miggie cry?”

“No,” returned Arthur.  “This is your father’s will, made when he thought there was no Miggie.  In it, I am, his heir after you, and Miggie hasn’t a cent.”

“You may have mine, Miggie.  Nina’ll give you hers, she will,” and the little maiden made a movement toward Edith, while Arthur continued,

“Yon can’t, darling.  It’s mine after you;” and this he said, not to inflict fresh pain on Edith, but to try Nina, and hear what she would say.

There was a perplexed, troubled look in her eyes, and then, drawing his head close to her, she whispered,

“Couldn’t you scratch it out, just as Richard did, only he didn’t.  That’s a good boy.  He will, Miggie,” and she nodded toward Edith, while Arthur rejoined,

“Would it please my child-wife very much to have me scratch it out?”

He had never called her thus before Edith until now, and he stole a glance at her to witness the effect.  For an instant she was white as marble; then the hot blood seemed bursting from the small round spot where it had settled in her cheeks, and involuntarily she extended her hand toward him in token of her approval.  She could not have reassured him better than by this simple act, and still retaining her hand, he went on,

“When I came to Florida, after Mr. Bernard’s death, my first step was to have the will proved, and consequently this sheet is now of very little consequence; but as you both will, undoubtedly, breathe more freely if every vestige of this writing is removed.  I will destroy it at once, and, as soon as possible, take the legal steps for reinstating Edith.”

Then releasing Edith’s hand, Arthur took the candle from the stand, and said to Nina,

“Have you strength to hold it?”

“Yes, yes,” she cried, grasping it eagerly, while, with a hand far steadier than hers, Arthur held the parchment in the flame, watching as the scorched, brown flakes dropped upon the floor, nor sending a single regret after the immense fortune he was giving up.

It was done at last.  The will lay crisped and blackened upon the carpet; Edith, in her own estimation was reinstated in her rights, and then, as if demanding something for the sacrifice, Arthur turned playfully to her, and winding his arm around her said,

“Kiss me once as a sister, for such you are, and once for giving you back your inheritance.”