A great sunbeam made its way into the library and lay across the velvet pile of the carpet like a message from the Almighty, the loving God, whose children are all of equal value in His eyes, and who draw near to Him, not at all by their wealth or their importance in the eyes of the world. There was silence in the room, to Arabella an oppressive, awe-stricken silence, as the lawyer put on his spectacles and began to read from a paper handed to him by his assistant which was the formal acceptance of Arabella by her new relatives and the provisions regarding her from the will of the late Lawrence Frederick George Allston. The girl scarcely understood those pompous-sounding phrases, still less did she fully realize all that they meant to her.

    The others listened to the various announcements, with most of which they were already familiar, with philosophic composure, their faces hidden by the impenetrable mask of conventionality. Mrs. Christie felt her breath fairly taken away by the mention of all the wealth that was coming to Arabella in money, stocks, bonds and real estate -- more, far more, in fact, than her limited view could comprehend. As she listened she realized, with a strange sinking of the heart, how far the little girl had been suddenly removed from her by this almost appalling wealth. It is to the credit of human nature that she was more disturbed by the fear that she might lose the companion of so many years than elated by the prospect of possible advantage to herself.

    She remembered how sturdily Arabella had undertaken her share of the work, and how thoroughly it had been done. She thought, likewise, of the lonely, dreary afternoons, when the dusk of autumn or winter closed in about the homestead, when Arabella was at hand to listen if she chose to talk, putting in a word now and again; or occasional long winter evenings when Silas had gone to play cards with a neighbor or to attend some political meeting, and only the little girl remained between her and desolation. She could recall many an evening, indeed, when the fierce wind swept eerily past the house, and when she was exceedingly glad of the quiet little figure in the shabby frock, sitting near her and helping her to mend the pile of rough garments or to darn Silas Christie's socks. She realized now how she would miss her, when Arabella had come to live, as seemed probable, in this grand house with every comfort and luxury, with servants to wait on her, and no work whatever to do.

    She looked curiously at Arabella while these thoughts were passing through her mind, but there was only confused discomfort visible in the girl's face, and no trace of joyfulness or exultation. The brown eyes were fixed with pathetic bewilderment upon the lawyer as he read. She did not even see the looks of encouragement that were cast upon her by the short gentleman, nor Mrs. Winslow's somewhat forced but kindly smile.

    So the lawyer detailed, in his clear, distinct voice, the various sums of money bequeathed and devised to the said Anna Rosetta Allston, whom Arabella began to suspect might be herself, daughter of the late John Cecil Allston, and co-heiress with several others to the estate of Lawrence Frederick Allston. The crucial moment came, however, when the lawyer was to put the question to Arabella as to where she wished to live.

    The tall, thin gentleman who had been introduced to the child as Uncle Robert looked up for the first time, interestedly, from the contemplation of the toe of his boot where it rested upon his knee; the short man described as Uncle Frederick leaned forward eagerly, with his cheery smile; Mrs. Christie sat bolt upright, striving as best she could to conceal all trace of feeling. She scarcely doubted what the child's decision would be. Her experience of life had been limited, but it had taught her many a cruel lesson, and one of them was to expect little from others. Arabella had had, in many ways, a hard time with her. She would have an easy time with these people. Her course was clear.

    Mrs. Winslow leaned back in her chair so that her face was in shadow. She was disposed to believe that Arabella would decide to cast in her lot with them. Her emotions were many and conflicting, and she strove to repress the desire which arose strongly in her heart that Arabella should go away again, and be lost in obscurity, leaving her household undisturbed as heretofore.

    It was a moment of thrilling interest, indeed, when the lawyer fixed his spectacled eyes upon Arabella and asked her in his half jocular, half deferential way:

    "And now, my fair client, the moment has come for you to make an important decision. It will not bind you, it is true, for life. At any time you are free to change. But I ask you now to say whether you will accept the home which Mrs. Winslow is kind enough to offer you. Am I not right, Mrs. Winslow?"

    "Quite right," assented Mrs. Winslow. "Arabella may make her home with me at any time."

    "Or whether," continued the lawyer, bowing in the direction of the short gentleman, "you will accept the hospitality of Mr. Frederick Allston, which I understand is offered."

    "A hospitality which is heartily at your service, my dear," said Mr. Frederick, smiling his genial smile at Arabella.

    For a moment the girl wavered. She had taken an instantaneous fancy to this kind-hearted, whole-souled relative.

    "Or would you prefer to take up your abode with Mr. Robert Allston, who is also prepared to receive you?"

    "If you are not afraid of the discomforts of a bachelor establishment," murmured the tall, thin man. His tone was courteous, even kind, for he could not have done or said a rude thing, and he spoke with evident sincerity. He felt sorry for the little thing in the trying ordeal which she had undergone. Arabella gave him a grateful glance, but she had no hesitation about that offer. The girl's eyes had been wandering from one face to another until they rested upon the homely and rugged countenance of Mrs. Christie. Thereon was an odd look of pathos, of regret, a forlornness in the very weariness of her attitude, that went to Arabella's heart. Amongst all these strangers, too, her face, hard as it had sometimes appeared, was the only one familiar.

    "Or should you wish any other manner of life," He hesitated. It seemed so unlikely. It was so inadvisable. Yet he felt it his duty to put the question. "Or to go back to the country with Mrs. Christie?"

    "Oh, yes, yes," cried Arabella, rising to her feet in the eagerness of her desire and throwing out her arms in a passionate gesture, which was unconsciously dramatic and appealing. "Let me go back with Mrs. Christie. Let me go home!"

    It was a pathetic cry. It brought tears to the eyes of more than one present, and it won for her golden opinions. It gave evidence of a loyalty, an affection and a disinterestedness that were certainly to be respected. Yet each one felt called upon in turn to enter a protest. Mrs. Christie could scarcely believe her ears. She made an ineffectual effort to speak, but her voice, choked with emotion, failed her, and her eyes, which had grown dull and weary with the monotony of her life's dreary landscape, blinked hard in an effort to restrain unwonted tears. Arabella went over to her after having spoken, and stood with a hand resting upon the elder woman's shoulder, looking half timorously, half defiantly, at the rest.

    Oddly enough, it was the languid Mr. Robert who first disturbed the silence that followed. He crossed the room deliberately and shook Arabella by the hand.

    "Bravo, little woman!" he said. "Bravo! You are of the right metal!"

    Then half ashamed of his vehemence, he sat down again. Mr. Frederick, meanwhile, was blowing his nose with suspicious vigor, and there was something like moisture in his eyes. Mrs. Winslow, who could not help feeling pleased with the decision, for that very reason felt bound to enter the first protest.

    "For the present," she said, addressing Mr. Van Duzen, "We shall, of course, abide by our niece's decision. But I cannot help feeling, and I am sure Mrs. Christie will agree with me, that such an arrangement can scarcely be permanent. Arabella must have all possible advantages of training and education to fit her for the position she will have to occupy, and in the country it is so difficult."

    She turned apologetically to Mrs. Christie as she thus concluded.

    "Yes," answered Mrs. Christie, "it is difficult, and our house is the last place on earth for her to get such training."

    "Can't both be combined?" inquired Mr. Frederick. "Can't she have a governess, or something of that sort, to go on with until she's older?"

    Arabella looked gratefully toward the speaker, while Mrs. Christie showed perturbation at the mention of a governess.

    "Would that be possible?" Mrs. Winslow asked. Then seeing and understanding the look upon Mrs. Christie's face, with that quick intuition which she shared with her niece, she added:

    "The governess need not be resident, you know; that is, if there is any one in the village."

    Mrs. Christie suddenly brightened.

    "The Purple Lady!" she said joyfully.

    It was Arabella's turn to look aghast, for the personage in question had been the awe and terror of her childhood. Mrs. Christie, however, satisfied Aunt Winslow in a few brief sentences that here was possibly an instructress who would solve the vexed problem of Arabella's education and training, and relieve her own conscience, for the present, at least. She took down her address, and declared that she would write to her the very next day.

    "And of course," she said, and her brothers heartily echoed the sentiment, "we must see you very often, my dear, and you must become better acquainted with your cousins."

    "And," suggested Mr. Frederick, "shall we not all agree, for greater uniformity, to call her Arabella?"

    This suggestion was adopted, after a slight hesitation on the part of Mrs. Winslow. And so the great conference broke up, the lawyer took his leave and Mrs. Christie and her charge were whirled away again in the cab by the lawyer's clerk, and this time Arabella thoroughly enjoyed the drive.

    Mr. Frederick lingered to say a few serious words to his sister.

    "Of course," he said, "we can't shake off our responsibility concerning poor Jack's child like this. Mrs. Christie seems an honest, reliable sort of woman as far as she goes, and no doubt it is best to leave Arabella with her for the present, since the girl has so chosen. But she is only a child, and cannot be made to bear the burden of a decision which might influence her whole future life."

    "Of course not," agreed Mrs. Winslow with a sigh. "And we must do all we can, but I don't mind confessing, Fred, that it is an immense relief not to have to take her just now."

    Mr. Frederick turned aside. "Poor little waif," he said in an undertone. "Poor little girl! She has chosen wisely."

    There was nothing, however, to be gained by discussing the matter, nor did he make the attempt.