and strong from first to last, Laura," returned Lester mildly, "and you greatly mistake in supposing I had anything to gain by agreeing to his wishes or that I was at all covetous of either office."
"Pardon me," she sneered, "but if you do not receive a percentage for your trouble, you will be the first executor I ever heard of who did not."
"I shall not accept a cent," he retorted, with some slight indignation in his tones.
"We shall see; men can change their minds as well as women. But surely I am associated with you in the guardianship of Evelyn?"
"According to her father's will I am sole guardian," said Lester.
"It is too much; I am the child's natural guardian, and shall contest my rights if necessary," returned Laura, defiantly; and with the last word she rose and left the room.
Elsie, entering the parlor a moment later, found her husband pacing to and fro with a very disturbed and anxious air.
"What is the matter?" she asked, and he answered with an account of his interview with Laura.
"How strange!" she exclaimed. "Her love for her husband cannot have been very deep and strong, if she is so ready to oppose the carrying out of his dying wishes. But do not let it trouble you, Lester; she is venting her anger in idle threats, and will never proceed to the length of contesting the will in a court of law."
"I trust not," he said sighing. "Ah me! if my poor brother had but made a wiser choice."
In the library, whither Mrs. Laura Leland bent her steps on her sudden exit from the parlor, Evelyn was sitting in her father's vacant chair, her elbow resting on the table, her cheek in her hand, her eyes on the carpet at her feet, while her sad thoughts travelled back over many an hour spent there in the loved companionship of the dear departed.
She looked up inquiringly on her mother's abrupt entrance, and noted with surprise the flush on her cheek and the angry light in her eyes.
"Ah, here you are!" said Laura. "Pray, were you let into the secret of the arrangements made in my absence?"
"What arrangements, mamma?" asked the little girl wonderingly.
"In regard to your guardianship, and the care of the property left by your father."
"No, mamma, I never knew or thought anything about those things. Must I have a guardian? Why should I be under the control of anyone but you?"
"Yes, why indeed? I would not have believed it of your father! but he has actually left you to the sole guardianship of your Uncle Lester. You may well look astonished," she added, noting the expression of Evelyn's face. "I feel that I am robbed of my natural right in my child."
"You need not, mamma; I shall obey you just the same of course, for nothing can release me from the obligation to keep the fifth commandment. So do not, I beg of you, blame papa."
With what a quiver of pain the young voice pronounced that loved name!
"No; I blame your uncle; for no doubt he used undue influence with Eric while his mind was enfeebled by illness. And I blame myself also for leaving my husband to that influence; but I little thought he was so ill – so near his end; nor did I suspect his brother of being so designing a man."
"Mamma, you quite mistake in regard to both," exclaimed Evelyn, in a pained, indignant tone; "Uncle Lester is not a designing person, and papa's mind was not in the least enfeebled by his illness."
"No, of course not; it can not be doubted that a child of your age is far more capable of judging than a woman of mine," was the sarcastic rejoinder.
"Mamma, please do not speak so unkindly to me," entreated the little girl, unbidden tears springing to her eyes; "you know you are all I have now."
"No, you have your dear Uncle Lester and Aunt Elsie, and I foresee that they will soon steal your heart entirely away from your mother."
"Mamma, how can you speak such cruel words to me?" cried Evelyn. "I would not hurt you so for all the world."
CHAPTER VI
"Farewell; God knows when we shall meet again."
Laura said no more about breaking the will, but her manner toward Lester and Elsie was so cold and repellant that they were not sorry that she shut herself up in her own room during the greater part of each day while they and she remained at Crag Cottage.
Had they consulted only their own inclination, they would have taken their own departure immediately after seeing Eric laid in his grave; but Lester's duties as executor and guardian made it necessary for them to stay on for some weeks.
The cottage was a part of Evelyn's portion of the estate, but Laura was given the right to make it her home so long as she remained Eric's widow.
Laura knew this, having read the will, but as that instrument made no mention of Eric's desire that his daughter should reside with her guardian, she was not aware of that fact; and feeling well nigh certain that it would rouse her anger and opposition, Lester dreaded making the disclosure.
But while perplexing himself with the question how best to approach her on the subject, he found among his brother's papers, a sealed letter addressed to her.
Calling Evelyn, he put it into her hand, bidding her carry it to her mother.
Half an hour later the little girl was again at his side, asking in tearful tones, "Uncle Lester, must mamma and I be separated?"
He was in the library, seated before a table, and seemed very busy over a pile of papers laid thereon; but pushing back his chair, he threw his arm round her waist and drew her to his knee.
"No, my dear child, not necessarily," he said, softly caressing her hair and cheek; "your mother will be made welcome at Fairview if she sees fit to go with us."
"But she wants to stay here and keep me with her; and it's my home, you know, the dear home where everything reminds me of – papa, Will you let me stay?"
"Do you really wish it, Evelyn? do you not desire to carry out the dying wishes of the father you loved so dearly?"
"Yes, uncle," she said, the tears stealing down her cheeks, "but – perhaps he wouldn't care now, and mamma is so sorely distressed at the thought of separation; and – and it hurts me too; for she is my mother, and I have no father now – or brother, or sister."
"You must let me be a father to you, my poor, dear child," he said in moved tones, and drawing her closer; "I will do my utmost to fill his place to you, and I hope you will come to me always with your troubles and perplexities, feeling the same assurance of finding sympathy and help that you did in carrying them to him."
"Oh, thank you!" she responded. "I think you are a dear, kind uncle, and very much like papa; you remind me of him very often in your looks, and words and ways."
"I am glad to hear you say so," he answered. "I had a great admiration for that dear brother, and for his sake as well as her own, I am very fond of his little daughter. And now about this question. I shall not compel your obedience to your father's wishes – at least not for the present – but shall leave the decision to your own heart and conscience. Take a day or two to think over the matter, and then let me hear your decision.
"In the meantime, if you can persuade your mamma to go with
