motive which must be _far_ stronger than even the love of life
itself--we should, I think, in fairness dismiss him from our mind.

'And yet it must be admitted that his conduct is not free of blame. He
contracts a sudden intimacy with the acknowledged culprit, whom he does
not seem to have known before. He meets her by night, corresponds with
her. Who and what is this woman? I think we could not be far wrong in
guessing some very old flame of Lord Pharanx's of _Théâtre des
Variétés_ type, whom he has supported for years, and from whom, hearing
some story to her discredit, he threatens to withdraw his supplies.
However that be, Randolph writes to Cibras--a violent woman, a woman of
lawless passions--assuring her that in four or five days she will be
excluded from the will of his father; and in four or five days Cibras
plunges a knife into his father's bosom. It is a perfectly natural
sequence--though, of course, the _intention_ to produce by his words
the actual effect produced might have been absent; indeed, the letter
of Lord Pharanx himself, had it been received, would have tended to
produce that very effect; for it not only gives an excellent
opportunity for converting into action those evil thoughts which
Randolph (thoughtlessly or guiltily) has instilled, but it further
tends to rouse her passions by cutting off from her all hopes of
favour. If we presume, then, as is only natural, that there was no such
intention on the part of the earl, we _may_ make the same presumption
in the case of the son. Cibras, however, never receives the earl's
letter: on the morning of the same day she goes away to Bath, with the
double object, I suppose, of purchasing a weapon, and creating an
impression that she has left the country. How then does she know the
exact _locale_ of Lord Pharanx's room? It is in an unusual part of the
mansion, she is unacquainted with any of the servants, a stranger to
the district. Can it be possible that Randolph _had told her_? And here