packages of paper out of the closet, and put them under the grate. He
said 'they were records of the past which he wished to perish with
him.'"

"So--so!" said the lawyer, significantly.

"But," continued Helen, speaking in a clearer, and more assured tone,
"I had just laid my hand on the knob to open the door, when he
discovered that it was not May to whom he had been speaking, and in
harsh tones he ordered me back, and commanded me to awaken May, and
leave the room, which I did, for his terrible looks alarmed me so
dreadfully that I could not remain."

"And you, May?"

"I got out the papers, sir, as my uncle directed, and burnt them, as he
desired. Helen is right," replied May.

"And what did you burn?"

"Papers. Some in packages, and some in large envelopes, like that you
hold in your hand," replied May, calmly.

"Why the deuce, then, didn't you put your head under the grate, and
burn that too? You have burnt the will, that's clear: the will which
would have made you the richest woman in Maryland. With those 'records
of the past,' which my old friend Stillinghast ought to have _eaten_ up
years ago, you have burnt up legacies to orphans, benefactions to
widows, and many noble charities with it--_if it was burnt_," added Mr.
Fielding.