“Why, my poor brother, who became silly and enfeebled in intellect by the loss of his child, was prevailed on by Miss Goodwin and her family to adopt her as his daughter, and by a series of the most artful and selfish manoeuvres they succeeded in getting the poor imbecile and besotted old man to make a will in her favor; and the consequence was that he left her twelve hundred a year, both to her and her issue, should she marry and have any; but in case she should have no issue, then, after her death, it was to revert to my son Woodward for whom it was originally intended by my brother. It was a most unprincipled and shameful transaction on the part of these Goodwins. Providence, however, would seem to have punished them for their iniquity, for Miss Goodwin is dying--at least, beyond all hope. The property, of course, will soon be in my son's possession, where it ought to have been ever since his uncle's death. Am I not right, then, in calculating on that property as his?” “Why, the circumstances you speak of are recent; I remember them well enough. There was a lawsuit about the will?” “There was, my lord.” “And the instrument was proved strictly legal and valid?” “The suit was certainly determined against us.” “I'll tell you what, Mrs. Lindsay; I am certain that I myself would have acted precisely as your brother did. I know the Goodwins, too, and I know, besides, that they are incapable of reverting to either fraud or undue influence of any kind. All that you have told me, then, is, with great respect to you, nothing but mere rigmarole. I am sorry, however, to hear that the daughter, poor girl, is dying. I hope in God she will recover.” “There is no earthly probability--nay, possibility of it--which is a stronger word--I know, my lord, she will die, and that very soon.” “You know, madam! How the deuce can you know? It is all in the hands of God. I hope she will live to enjoy her property.” “My lord, I visited the girl in her illness, and life was barely in her; I have, besides, the opinion of the physician who attended her, and of another who was called in to consult upon her state, and both have informed me that her recovery is hopeless.” “And what opinion does your son, Woodward, entertain upon the subject?” “One, my lord, in complete keeping with his generous character. He is as anxious for her recovery as your lordship.” “Well, I like that, at all events; it is a good point in him. Yes, I like that--but, in the meantime, here are you calculating upon a contingency that may never happen. The calculation is, I grant, not overburdened with delicacy of feeling; but still it may proceed from anxiety for the settlement and welfare of your son. Not an improbable thing on the part of a mother, I grant that.” “Well, then, my lord,” asked Mrs. Lindsay, “what is to be done? Come to the point, as you very properly say yourself.”