Mrs. Oakley commenced her examination of the old desk, thoroughly convinced that if the missing will were in existence at all, it was hidden there.

It was one of those old desks and bureaus combined, which were so common in the days of our grandfathers. In the drawers beneath, John had been accustomed to keep his clothing; in the desk above, writing materials, and some small articles of no particular importance. These he had not had time to remove before his unexpected departure.

Mrs. Oakley turned those over impatiently, and explored every drawer hurriedly. But she did not discover what she had expected to find. This first failure, however, did not surprise her. She did not expect to find the will lying loosely in any of the drawers. But she suspected that some one drawer might have a false bottom, beneath which the important document would prove to be concealed. She therefore carefully examined every drawer with a view to the discovery of such a place of concealment. But to her disappointment she obtained no clue. The drawers seemed honestly made. For the first time Mrs. Oakley began to doubt whether the will were really in existence. She had searched everywhere, and it could not be found.

"I wish I could be sure," she said to herself. "I would give five hundred dollars this minute to be sure that there was no will. Then I should feel secure in the possession of my money. But to feel that at any moment a paper may turn up depriving me of forty thousand dollars keeps me in constant anxiety."

She gave up the search for the day, having domestic duties to attend to. She tried to persuade herself that her fears and anxieties were without foundation, but in this she was unsuccessful. She permitted a day to slip by, but on the second day she again visited John's room. The old desk seemed to have a fascination for her.

This time she turned the desk around, and passed her hand slowly over the back. Just when she was about to relinquish the attempt in despair, success came.

Suddenly beneath her finger a concealed spring was unconsciously touched, and a thin drawer sprang from the recesses of the desk. Mrs. Oakley's eyes sparkled with the sense of approaching triumph, as she perceived carefully laid away therein a paper compactly folded.

With fingers trembling with nervous agitation she opened it. She had not been deceived. The missing will lay outspread before her! Mrs. Oakley read it carefully.

It was drawn up with the usual formalities, as might have been expected, being the work of a careful lawyer. It revoked all other wills of a previous date, and bequeathed in express terms two-thirds of the entire estate left by the testator to his only son, John. Squire Selwyn was appointed executor, and guardian of said John, should he be under age at the time of his father's death. The remaining third of the property was willed to Mrs. Jane Oakley, should she survive her husband; otherwise to her son Benjamin in the event of his mother's previous death.

Such was the substance of Squire Oakley's last will and testament, now for the first time revealed.

Mrs. Oakley read it with mingled feelings,—partly of indignation with her late husband that he should have made such a will, partly of joy that no one save herself knew of its existence. She held in her hand a document which in John Oakley's hands would be worth forty thousand dollars if she permitted him to obtain it. But she had no such intention. What should be done with it?

Should she lock it up carefully where it would not be likely to be found? There would be danger of discovery at any moment.

"It must be destroyed," she said to herself, resolutely. "There is no other way. A single match will make me secure in the possession of the estate."

Mrs. Oakley knew that it was a criminal act which she had in view; but the chance of detection seemed to be slight. In fact, since no one knew that such a will was in existence, though some might suspect it, there seemed to be no danger at all.

"Yes, it shall be destroyed and at once. There can be no reason for delay," she said firmly.

She crossed the entry into her own chamber, first closing the secret drawer, and moving the old desk back to its accustomed place. There was a candle on the mantel-piece, which she generally lighted at night. She struck a match, and lighted it now. This done, she approached the will to the flame, and the corner of the document so important to John Oakley caught fire, and the insidious flame began to spread. Mrs. Oakley watched it with exulting eyes, when a sudden step was heard at the door of her chamber, and, turning, she saw Hannah, the servant-girl, standing on the threshold, looking in.

Mrs. Oakley half rose, withdrawing the will from the candle, and demanded harshly:—

"What brought you here?"

"Shall I go out to the garden and get some vegetables for dinner?" asked Hannah.

"Of course you may. You needn't have come up here to ask," said her mistress, with irritation.

"I didn't know whether you would want any," said Hannah, defending herself. "There was some cold vegetables left from yesterday's dinner. I thought maybe you'd have them warmed over."

"Well, if there are enough left you may warm them. I'll come down just as soon as I can. I have been looking over some old papers of my husband's," she explained, rather awkwardly, perceiving that Hannah's eyes were bent curiously upon the will and the candle, "and burning such as were of no value. Do you know what time it is?"

"Most eleven, by the kitchen clock," said Hannah.

"Then you had better go down, and hurry about dinner."

"I can take down the old papers, and put them in the kitchen stove," suggested Hannah.

"It's of no consequence," said Mrs. Oakley, hastily. "I will attend to that myself."

"Mrs. Oakley seems queer this morning," thought Hannah, as she turned and descended the stairs to her professional duties in the kitchen. "I wonder what made her jump so when I came in, and what that paper is that she was burning up in the candle."

Hannah had never heard of the will, and was unacquainted with legal technicalities, and therefore her suspicions were not excited. She only wondered what made Mrs. Oakley seem so queer.

When she went out Mrs. Oakley sat in doubt.

"Hannah came in at a most unlucky moment," she said to herself, with vexation. "Could she have suspected anything? If she should breathe a word of this, and it should get to that lawyer's ears, I might get into trouble."

Mrs. Oakley held the will in her hand irresolutely. Should she follow out her first intention, and burn it? A feeling of apprehension as to the possible consequences of her act prevented her. The flame had gone out, leaving the corner scorched, and slightly burned; but apart from this the will was uninjured.

After a pause of deliberation, Mrs. Oakley blew out the candle, and, taking the will, opened the upper drawer of her bureau, and deposited it carefully inside. She locked it securely, and, putting the key in her pocket, went downstairs.

Before doing so, however, she went to the closet in which she kept her wardrobe, and, selecting a handsome silk cape, took it down with her.

"Hannah," she said, "here's a cape I shall not use again. It doesn't fit me exactly. If you would like it, it is yours."

"Thank you, ma'am," said the astonished Hannah, for this was the first present she had ever received from her mistress; "you're very kind indeed. It is an elegant cape."

"Yes, it is a nice one. I am glad you like it."

"The mistress must be crazy," thought the bewildered Hannah. "I never knew her to do such a thing before, and I've lived here three years come October."