from a fainting fit, and overwhelmed with inexpressible anguish.
"Brother!" said Rhodophil, in an accent of grief and tenderness, "Brother! here is my father's will, and I have little doubt but that you will find he was your father also, and that, however severely his resentment was expressed in his life-time, he has not extended it beyond the grave, nor forgotten, in the disposal of his effects, that he had a younger son, and a grand-child."
Ferdinand, who had been lifted from the floor, turning his eyes on his brother with a look of fixed sorrow, exclaimed, "His will! Alas! what have I to do with that? He expired without seeing me, without granting me, all I ever wished for, or expected, his pardon, and his blessing! O, Rhodophil! my friend—my brother—why, why did you not urge him to pronounce me forgiven in his last moments, to revoke that
