l,--for he would not sleep
nor eat in the villa,--that he was a man marked out for misfortune.
When he returned to the villa on the next morning the Marquis of
Brotherton was no more. His Lordship had died in the 44th year of his
age, on the 30th March, 187--.

The Marquis of Brotherton was dead, and Lord George Germain was Marquis
of Brotherton, and would be so called by all the world as soon as his
brother was decently hidden under the ground. It concerns our story now
to say that Mary Lovelace was Marchioness of Brotherton, and that the
Dean of Brotherton was the father-in-law of a Marquis, and would, in
all probability, be the progenitor of a long line of Marquises. Lord
George, as soon as the event was known, caused telegrams to be sent to
Mr. Knox, to Lady Sarah,--and to the Dean. He had hesitated about the
last, but his better nature at last prevailed. He was well aware that
no one was so anxious as the Dean, and though he disliked and condemned
the Dean's anxiety, he remembered that the Dean had at any rate been a
loving father to his wife, and a very liberal father-in-law.

Mr. Knox, when he received the news, went at once to Mr. Stokes, and
the two gentlemen were not long in agreeing that a very troublesome and
useless person had been removed out of the world. "Oh, yes; there's a
will," said Mr. Stokes in answer to an enquiry from Mr. Knox, "made
while he was in London the other day, just before he started,--as bad a
will as a man could make; but he couldn't do very much harm. Every acre
was entailed."

"How about the house in town?" asked Mr. Knox.

"Entailed on the baby about to be born, if he happens to be a boy."

"He didn't spend his income?" suggested Mr. Knox.

"He muddled a lot of money away; but since the coal came up he couldn't
spend it all, I should say."

"Who gets it?" asked Mr. Knox, laughing.

"We shall see that when the will is read," said the attorney with a
smile.

The news was brought out to Lady Sarah as quick as the very wretched
pony which served for the Brotherton telegraph express could bring it.
The hour which was lost in getting the pony ready, perhaps, did not
signify much. Lady Sarah, at the moment, was busy with her needle, and
her sisters were with her. "What is it?" said Lady Susanna, jumping up.
Lady Sarah, with cruel delay, kept the telegram for a moment in her
hand. "Do open it," said Lady Amelia; "is it from George? Pray open
it;--pray do!" Lady Sarah, feeling cer