ll were in his own
power, it could not be abolished by his own hands.

As to that abolishing he was perfectly conscious of his own weakness.
He could not take the will from its hiding-place and with his own
hand thrust it into the flames. He had never as yet even suggested to
himself that he would do so. His hair stood on end as he thought of
the horrors attendant on such a deed as that. To be made to stand in
the dock and be gazed at by the angry eyes of all the court, to be
written of as the noted criminal of the day, to hear the verdict of
guilty, and then the sentence, and to be aware that he was to be shut
up and secluded from all comforts throughout his life! And then, and
then, the dread hereafter! For such a deed as that would there not
be assured damnation? Although he told himself that justice demanded
the destruction of the will, justice could not be achieved by his own
hand after such fashion as that.

No; he could not himself destroy the document, though it should
remain there for years to make his life a burden to him. As to that
he had made up his mind, if to nothing else. Though there might be
no peril as to this world,--though he might certainly do the deed
without a chance of detection from human eyes,--though there would in
truth be no prospect of that angry judge and ready jury and crushing
sentence, yet he could not do it. There was something of a conscience
within him. Were he to commit a felony, from the moment of the doing
of the deed the fear of eternal punishment would be heavy on his
soul, only to be removed by confession and retribution,--and then by
the trial with the judge, and the jury, and the sentence! He could
not destroy the document. But if the book could get itself destroyed,
what a blessing it would be! The book was his own, or would be in a
few days, when the will should have been properly proved. But if he
were to take away the book and sink it in a well, or throw it into
the sea, or bury it deep beneath the earth, then it would surely
reappear by one of those ever-recurring accidents which are always
bringing deeds of darkness to the light. Were he to cast the book
into the sea, tied with strings or cased in paper, and leaded, that
it should surely sink, so that the will should not by untoward chance
float out of it, the book tied and bound and leaded would certainly
come up in evidence against him. Were he to move the book, the vacant
space would lead to suspicion. He would be