by Margaret, and so I had to face the situation. On arriving at the railway station I found Cecil Harrington waiting for me. He was startled at my appearance, and asked me hurriedly if I had been taken ill on the journey down. I took him aside, and poured into his ear the full story of my trouble, brought on by his own negligence. I could not reproach him, his own grief and horror were no less than my own. We drove to gether to the cottage, where pretty Dorothy was waiting to receive me; a couple of glasses of wine (I am by habit an abstainer) were forced upon me, and I slowly recovered myself so as to be able to speak a few words of sympathy to the sorrowing niece, whose kind forethought had provided a meal ready for me on my arrival. I learned from Dorothy 'that her aunt Mary, who was then lying dead upstairs, had been to the little village in the morning on some errand of mercy to a poor cottager, and had overtired herself walking in full sun shine of noon, and had sat down on a seat under the cool shade of a cedar tree which formed one of the beauties of the little cottage home, that Dorothy had been startled to see her fall suddenly from her seat, and hastening up to her had found her speechless and death like; she had been carried up to her room and Dr. Harrington had been sent for in haste, and on his arrival an hour later had said he feared the worst, and after the most careful examination he failed to detect any, even the faintest sign of any action of the heart, and had pronounced that she had died from sudden failure of the heart, brought on by over-exertion, about which he had more than once warned both the poor old ladies; in fact Dr. Harrington had told Dorothy the end was just what he had expected might have occurred at any time in the last three years. The shock to the surviving sister had been very terrible, but she had borne up wonder fully, until the doctor had pronounced her
sister to be dead, she then fainted off, and had been restored with difficulty, and was then lying in her own room only partially con scious, tended by her faithful old servant, Barbara. When we were left alone I discussed with Cecil Harrington the legal position of the whole matter. There was clearly and un doubtedly an intestacy; and George as heir at law of the deceased took her half share of the cottage, which was a freehold, held by the two sisters as tenants in common; and George as one of the next of kin took half of the personal estate, sharing equally with the surviving sister. And, worst of all, George's English creditors could take all his share and interest, and so half of the fortune which was so carefully planned for Dorothy's portion in the future would be actually lost to her. Was there no help for it? Could a case be made out in which a Court of Equity would grant relief? a mutual agreement between two sisters to make iden tic wills; such an agreement being evidenced by the execution of documents which by sheer accident were inoperative as legal wills! Would a Court of Equity grant re lief by declaring George a trustee for earn ing out the unfulfilled agreement of the dead testatrix? But what would such a suit in volve? years of litigation, untold cost, credi tors intervening and rendering friendly com promise impossible. For myself only one re sult was inevitable; an unanswerable charge of professional negligence, a slur on my good reputation, confusion of face for the rest of my life. Truly my position was as cruel a one as ever an innocent man could be called upon to face. Two points at least were settled between Harrington and myself before he left me, that nothing need be said till after the funeral; that George should not be summoned to Croomedene, and that I should take the best advice that Lincoln's Inn could afford me at the earliest moment. And so he and I parted, and I was left to bear my burden alone.
