"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—'
"'The entailed estates,' interrupted my mother, 'would go to the heir at law, and I should lose eight thousand a year.—So, no more on that subject, Sir. He is the son of Corbet, of the man I hated; but I will not consent to embrue my hands in his blood, though I should glory in reducing him to the state in which you left Louise!'
"'Well, well, Caroline,' said Mallet, 'I yield: if you can accomplish your design, far be it from me to dissuade you from it.'
"They proceeded to settle their future plans, and I retired to the outward apartment, in a state nearly answering my mother's wishes.
"In the morning, Mallet brought my breakfast. I started from my seat at his entrance; his injuries to my father, his villanous intentions toward myself, rose on my tortured imagination, and hurried me nearly to madness! Impelled by the phrenzy of the moment, I hurled my chair at him with the utmost force, and levelled him with the floor! The folly of the action, the moment I had committed it, served to restore my recollection; for would it not aid my mother in her intentions to accuse me of insanity? Mallet, perhaps, believed me then deranged, for, springing on his feet, he with the greatest trepidation hurried out of the room. He, however, took care to secure the door, and I was left to reflect on my want of forbearance to one who, I was certain, would not pass by the opportunity of injuring me. My prognostic was right: in less than half an hour, my mother entered the room; her eye glanced with secret satisfaction on the fragments of china scattered on the floor; but, advancing to me, she haughtily asked the meaning of the outrage I had committed? My heart swelled to agony at the question, though certainly to have been expected. I could not avow the motive which had instigated me.—I could not utter a falsehood: and, at last, throwing myself on the bed, covered my face, and found a slight relief in groans.