"The will I have here"--he held up the papers as he spoke--"was, in
fact, made a few months after Sir David inherited Mr. John Steele's
large fortune, and there was no subsequent alteration to it, but this
time last year we were directed to make a codicil to this will, and I
was away at the time. My brother, who is my senior partner, ventured to
urge Sir David to make a new will altogether, but he declined."

There was silence in the room for some moments. Mr. Murray leant over
the writing-table now, and both hands were occupied in smoothing out the
papers before him.

"It is the worst will I have ever come across," he said quite suddenly,
the professional manner gone and the vehemence of a strong mind in
distress breaking through all conventionality. Rose drew herself up and
looked at him coldly. In that moment she completely regained her
self-possession.

"It is absolutely inexplicable," he went on, with a great effort at
self-control. "Sir David Bright leaves this house and £800 a year to
you, Lady Rose, for your lifetime, and a few gifts to friends and small
legacies to old servants." He paused. Rose, with slightly heightened
colour, spoke very quietly.

"Then the fortune was much smaller than was supposed?"

"It was larger, far larger than any one knew; but it is all left away."

Rose was disturbed and frankly sorry, but not by any means miserable.
She knew life, and did not dislike wealth, and had had dreams of much
good that might be done with it.