They were, at least, above that.
In a few days David Grierson was consigned to the earth, and, after the
funeral, Mr. Ainslie, accompanied by Walter, again attended to open the
repositories and read the testament. Rachel agreed to be present. When
the seals were removed, she was asked by the notary if she knew where
the document was deposited. She now felt the consequence of the easy
manner in which she had let slip the opportunity so dearly offered by
her father, of knowing the _locale_ of a writ in all respects so
important; for it cannot be doubted that, if she had persevered, she
might have succeeded in drawing out of him the word, articulated so as
that she might have comprehended it. She accordingly, yet without any
anticipation of danger, answered in the negative, whereupon the notary
and nephew, who seemed to be on the most friendly terms, set about a
search. Rachel remained. A whole hour was passed in the search; the will
was not yet found. Every drawer of the bureau was examined,--the
presses, the cabinets, the table-drawers, the trunks. And so another
hour passed--no will. Rachel began to get alarmed, and perhaps the more
that she saw upon the faces of the searchers an expression which she
could not comprehend. Their spirits seemed to have become elated as hers
became depressed; yet why should that have been, if Walter Grierson was
to be "true to his troth?"
"We need search no more," said Mr.
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