r in mind, or
affairs. We sailors have to hold our lives in our hands, it is true, but
then it is for king and country; and we hope for mercy on all who fall
in the discharge of their duties. For my part, I am never unprovided
with a will, and that disposes of all the interests of this world, while
I humbly trust in the Great Mediator, for the hereafter. I hope Sir
Wycherly is equally provident as to his worldly affairs?"

"No doubt my dear uncle could wish to leave certain trifling memorials
behind him to a few of his intimates," returned Tom, with a dejected
countenance; "but he has not been without a will, I believe, for some
time; and I presume you will agree with me in thinking he is not in a
condition to make one, now, were he unprovided in that way?"

"Perhaps not exactly at this moment, though a rally might afford an
opportunity. The estate is entailed, I think Mr. Dutton told me, at
dinner."

"It is, Sir Gervaise, and I am the unworthy individual who is to profit
by it, according to the common notions of men, though Heaven knows I
shall consider it any thing but a gain; still, I am the unworthy
individual who is to be benefited by my uncle's death."

"Your father was the baronet's next brother?" observed Sir Gervaise,
casually, a shade of distrust passing athwart his mind, though coming
from what source, or directed to what point, he was himself totally
unable to say. "Mr. Baron Wychecombe, I believe, was your parent?"

"He was, Sir Gervaise, and a most tender and indulgent father, I ever
found him. He left me his earnings, some seven hundred a year, and I am
sure the death of Sir Wycherly is as far from my necessities, as it is
from my wishes."

"Of course you will succeed to the baronetcy, as well as to the estate?"
mechanically asked Sir Gervaise, led on by the supererogatory
expressions of Tom, himself, rather than by a vulgar curiosity, to ask
questions that, under other circumstances, he might have thought
improper.

"Of course, sir. My father was the only surviving brother of Sir
Wycherly; the only one who ever married; and I am _his_ eldest child.
Since this melancholy event has occurred, it is quite fortunate that I
lately obtained this certificate of the marriage of my parents--is it
not, sir?"

Here Tom drew from his pocket a soiled piece of paper, which professed
to be a certificate of the marriage of Thomas Wychecombe, barrister,
with Martha Dodd, spinster, &c. &c. The document was duly s