remained for his executor, except to dispose of the unprofitable tract
of land and invest the proceeds.

On the day following the opening of our story, Jasper, who still felt
annoyed at the prospect of more trouble than profit in the matter of
his executorship, made a formal call upon the widow of his old friend.

The servant, to whom he gave his name, stated that Mrs. Elder was so
ill as not to be able to leave her room.

"I will call again, then, in a few days," said he. "Be sure you give
her my name correctly. Mr. Jasper--Leonard Jasper."

The face of the servant wore a troubled aspect.

"She is very sick, sir," said she, in a worried, hesitating manner.
"Won't you take a seat, for a moment, until I go up and tell her that
you are here? Maybe she would like to see you. I think I heard her
mention your name a little while ago."

Jasper sat down, and the domestic left the room. She was gone but a
short time, when she returned and said that Mrs. Elder wished to see
him. Jasper arose and followed her up-stairs. There were some strange
misgivings in his heart--some vague, troubled anticipations, that
oppressed his feelings. But he had little time for thought ere he was
ushered into the chamber of his friend's widow.

A single glance sufficed to tell him the whole sad truth of the case.
There was no room for mistake. The bright, glazed eyes, the rigid,
colourless lips, the ashen countenance, all testified that the hour