Mr. Plausaby drew the attorney into one corner of the room for consultation.  Nothing but the desperateness of his position and the energetic advice of Mr. Conger could have induced him to take the course which he now decided upon, for force was not a common resort with him, and with all his faults, he was a man of much kindness of heart.

“Isa,” he said, “I have always been a father to you.  Now you are conspiring against me.  If you do not go out, I shall be under the painful necessity of putting you out, gently, but by main strength.”  The old smile was on his face.  He seized her arms, and Isa, seeing how useless resistance would be, and how much harm excitement might do to the patient, rose to go.  But at that moment, happening to look toward the bed, she cried out, “Mrs. Plausaby is dying!” and she would not have been a woman if she could have helped adding, “See what you have done, now!”

There was nothing Mr. Plausaby wanted less than that his wife should die at this inconvenient moment.  He ran off for the doctor, but poor, weak Mrs. Plausaby was past signing wills or recantations.

The next day she died.

And Isa wrote to Albert: 

“METROPOLISVILLE, May 17th, 1857.

“MR. CHARLTON: 

“DEAR SIR:  Your poor mother died yesterday.  She suffered little in body, and her mind was much more peaceful after her last interview with Mr. Lurton, which resulted in her making a frank statement of the circumstances of the land-warrant affair.  She afterward had it written down, and signed it, that it might be used to set you free.  She also asked me to tell Miss Minorkey, and I shall send her a letter by this mail.  I am so glad that your innocence is to be proved at last.  I have said nothing about the statement your mother made to any one except Miss Minorkey, because I am unwilling to use it without your consent.  You have great reason to be grateful to Mr. Lurton.  Ho has shown himself your friend, indeed.  I think him an excellent man.  He comforted your mother a great deal.  You had better let me put the writing your mother left, into his hands.  I am sure he will secure your freedom for you.

“Your mother died without any will, and all the property is yours.  Your father earned it, and I am glad it goes back to its rightful owner.  You will not agree with me, but I believe in a Providence, now, more than ever.

“Truly your friend, ISABEL MARLAY.”

The intelligence of his mother’s death caused Albert a real sorrow.  And yet he could hardly regret it.  Charlton was not conscious of anything but a filial grief.  But the feeling of relief modified his sorrow.

The letter filled him with a hope of pardon.  Now that he could without danger to his mother seek release from an unjust incarceration, he became eager to get out.  The possibility of release made every hour of confinement intolerable.