that she might have comprehended it. She accordingly, yet without any
anticipation of danger, answered in the negative, whereupon the notary
and nephew, who seemed to be on the most friendly terms, set about a
search. Rachel remained. A whole hour was passed in the search; the will
was not yet found. Every drawer of the bureau was examined,--the
presses, the cabinets, the table-drawers, the trunks. And so another
hour passed--no will. Rachel began to get alarmed, and perhaps the more
that she saw upon the faces of the searchers an expression which she
could not comprehend. Their spirits seemed to have become elated as hers
became depressed; yet why should that have been, if Walter Grierson was
to be "true to his troth?"

"We need search no more," said Mr. Ainslie. "The will is not in the
house. I should say it is not in existence, and that Mr. Grierson,
having changed his mind, had destroyed it."

"Not so," replied Rachel, "for a few minutes before his death he tried
to tell me where it was, but the name of the place died away upon his
tongue, and I could not catch it."

"Neither can we catch the deed," said Walter, with a laugh which had a
spice of irony in it.

And so the search was given up. The two searchers left the house,
apparently in close conversation. Rachel sought her room and threw
herself on a sofa, oppressed by doubts and fears which she could not
very well explain. The manner of Walter appeared to her not to be that
of one who was pledged to marry her. Her mind ran rapidly back over
doubtful reminiscences which yielded no comfort to the heart; nay, she
felt that he had never been as a lover to her; and far less that day