“It must have been Mrs. Verner——­”

“Hush, mother!  I cannot listen to that, even from you.  Mrs. Verner was in her bed—­never out of it; she knew nothing whatever of the codicil.  And, if she had, you will, I hope, do her the justice to believe that she would be incapable of meddling with it.”

“She benefits by its loss, at any rate,” bitterly rejoined Lady Verner.

“Her son does.  But that he does was entirely unknown to her.  She never knew that Mr. Verner had willed the estate away from me; she never dreamed but that I, and no other, would be his successor.  The accession of Frederick Massingbird is unwelcome to her, rather than the contrary; he has no right to it, and she feels that he has not.  In the impulse of the surprise, she said aloud that she wished it had been left to me; and I am sure these were her true sentiments.”

Lady Verner sat in silence, her white hands crossed on her black dress, her head bent down.  Presently she lifted it——­

“I do not fully understand you, Lionel.  You appear to imply that—­according to your belief—­no one has touched the codicil.  How, then, can it have got out of the desk?”

“There is only one solution.  It was suggested by Mr. Bitterworth; and, though I refused credence to it when he spoke, it has since been gaining upon my mind.  He thinks my uncle must have repented of the codicil after it was made, and himself destroyed it.  I should give full belief to this were it not that at the very last he spoke to me as the successor to Verner’s Pride.”

“Why did he will it from you at all?” asked Lady Verner.

“I know not.  I have told you how estranged his manner has been to me for the last year or two; but wherefore, or what I had done to displease him, I cannot think or imagine.”

“He had no right to will away the estate from you,” vehemently rejoined Lady Verner.  “Was it not enough that he usurped your father’s birth-right, as Jacob usurped Esau’s, keeping you out of it for years and years, but he must now deprive you of it for ever?  Had you been dead—­had there been any urgent reason why you should not succeed—­Jan should have come in.  Jan is the lawful heir, failing you.  Mark me, Lionel, it will bring no good to Frederick Massingbird.  Rights, violently diverted out of their course, can bring only wrong and confusion.”

“It would be scarcely fair were it to bring him ill,” spoke Lionel, in his strict justice.  “Frederick has had nothing to do with my uncle’s bequeathing the estate to him.”

“Nonsense, Lionel! you cannot make me believe that no cajolery has been at work from some quarter or other,” peevishly answered Lady Verner.  “Tell the facts to an impartial person—­a stranger.  They were always about him—­his wife and those Massingbirds—­and at the last moment it is discovered that he has left all to them, and disinherited you.”

“Mother, you are mistaken.  What my uncle has done, he has done of his own will alone, unbiassed by others; nay, unknown to others.  He distinctly stated this to Matiss, when the change was made.  No, although I am a sufferer, and they benefit, I cannot throw a shade of the wrong upon Mrs. Verner and the Massingbirds.”