"How long have you been here ?" she gasped.
"Quite--five--minutes," whispered the girl.
"And you have seen--" The mother looked into the daughter's eyes fearfully, not daring to utter the words trembling on her lips.
"I saw you change the--the will!" whispered Claire, in a terror-stricken voice.

"I saw you erase with a green fluid, which must have been a most powerful chemical, the words of the will, 'to my daughter Faynie' in the sentence: 'I bequeath all of my estate, both personal and real,' and insert therein the words, 'my wife, Margaret' in place of 'my daughter Faynie.'" The woman stepped forward and clutched the girl's arm.
"It was for your sake, Claire, that I did it," she whispered, shrilly; "he cut us off with almost nothing, giving all to that proud daughter Faynie of his.

We would have had to step out into the world--beggars again.

We know what it is to be poor--ay, in want; we could never endure it again--death would be easier for both of us.
"The will was drawn two years ago; I am confident that it is the latest--that there is no other.

I took a desperate chance to do what I have done to-night--so cleverly that it could never be detected.
"A few strokes of the pen meant wealth or poverty for us, Claire.