"Certainly not," said Sarah; "you must not persist in a falsehood in
my name. If you do, I shall rise up in court, and contradict you! I
feel it my duty, having seen the will, to state my firm belief that it
is a copy of the original will, and nothing more."

Poor Mr. Cramp was dreadfully annoyed. He could, he thought, manage
all sorts of clients. He reasoned, he proved, he entreated, he got
her counsel to call upon her, but all was in vain. She would go
into court, she said, herself, if her counsel deserted her. She
would _not_ give up the cause; she would plead for the sake of her
father's honour. She was well assured that the real will was still
in existence, and would be discovered--found--sooner or later--though
not, perhaps, till she was in her grave.

The senior counsel was so provoked at what he called his client's
obstinacy, that he threw up his brief, and the junior took advantage
of the circumstance to make a most eloquent speech, enlarging upon
the singularity of no appeal having been previously made by the
plaintiff--of the extraordinary disappearance of the witnesses--of the
straight-forward, simple, and beautiful truthfulness of the defendant;
in short, he moved the court to tears, and laid the foundation of his
future fortune. But after that day, Sarah Bond and her niece, Mabel,
were homeless and houseless. Yet I should not say that; for the gates
of a jail gaped widely for the "miser's daughter," but only for a few
days; after which society rang with praises, loud and repeated, of Mr.
Alfred Bond's liberality, who had discharged the defendant's costs as
well as his own. In truth, people talked so much and so loudly about
this, that they altogether forgot to inquire what had become of Sarah
and Mabel.