"Surprise and concern," continued Sir Henry, as he folded up the packet, "for some time absorbed every faculty. Again I perused the papers, which opened a mother's character to my view, and which the occurrences of that day had marked as too just. Yet, for what purpose could she confine me?--had she not succeeded in obtaining the estates? at what further then did she aim? I could not resolve the question, but insensibly reverted to the death of my father. The bed he expired on, was before me, my destined couch of rest. Nature revolted at the idea, and revived, with additional poignancy, the remembrance of his last moments. "'And Blond too is gone!' I cried, rising, and wildly pacing the room: 'and she who should prove the friend and guardian of her son, too surely seeks his destruction!--But, perhaps, the will is not destroyed: no one but Blond knew where it was placed.' "My mother had secured my father's keys; but some months prior to his decease, he had presented me with one of the private room; which had my mother known, she would, most probably, have chosen another apartment for my confinement. "With a palpitating heart I unlocked the door, and hastily advanced to the closet, where Blond had said it was deposited; but in vain I searched; no will could I discover. "'Too surely, it is destroyed,' I sighed; and at that moment my ear was saluted by the voice of my mother in the adjoining apartment, which, indeed, was her own; and, by the familiarity of her address, soon discovered Mallet to be her companion. I was, indeed, on the spot whence my father mentioned overhearing a former discourse. Listening attentively, I heard my mother say--'You are wrong, Charles. Confining him in the room where Corbet died, is the only way to effect my purpose. Naturally of a pensive disposition, the recollection of his father, forced on his mind by every object, cannot fail still more to deject him. Could I but find this accursed will, and destroy it, I should not fear him; but as it is--there I will keep him, till I either turn his senses, or have a fair pretence for saying he is insane; which may answer as well. Let me once get the entire management of his estates, it is all I desire.' "'I never doubted your abilities, Caroline,' said Mallet, 'but cannot clearly comprehend how you can accuse him of insanity, when the evidence of the servants must prove to the contrary; and as for really turning his senses--your hopes, I am afraid, are rather too sanguine: Sir Henry is soft in heart; not the head.--There is an easier way to settle your pretensions. Were Sir Henry at rest with his father, no one would have a just right to dispute the validity of the present will; which, if he live to come of age, is a thing not at all unlikely to happen.--If he were dead--'