handsome
portion that had been hers, a portion which he had gamed away and
squandered until, for their station, their circumstances were now
absolutely straitened. They had led a harsh, discordant life, and the
coming of a son, which should have bridged the loveless gulf between
them, seemed but to have served to dig it wider. And the son had been
just the harsh, unfeeling offspring that might be looked for from such
a union. Thirty years of slavery had been her ladyship's, and in those
thirty years her nature had been soured and warped, and what inherent
sweetness it may once have known had long since been smothered and
destroyed. She had no cause to love that man who had never loved her,
never loved aught of hers beyond her jointure. And yet, there was the
habit of thirty years. For thirty years they had been yoke-fellows,
however detestable the yoke. But yesterday he had been alive and strong,
a stupid, querulous thing maybe, but a living. And now he was so much
carrion that should be given to the earth. In some such channel ran
her ladyship's reflections during those few seconds in which she was
recovering. For an instant she was softened. The long-since dried-up
springs of tenderness seemed like to push anew under the shock of this
event. She put out a hand to take her son's.

"Charles!" she said, and surprised him by the tender note.

A moment thus; then she was herself again. "How did he die?" she asked
the doctor; and the abruptness of the resumption of her usual manner
startled Sir James more than aught in his experience of such scenes.

"It was most sudden, madam," answered he. "I had the best grounds
for hope. I was being persuaded we should save him. And then, quite
suddenly, without an instant's warning, he succumbed. He just heaved a
sigh, and was gone. I could scarcely believe my senses, madam."

He would have added more particulars of his feelings and emotions--for
he was of those who believe that their own impressions of a phenomenon
are that phenomenon's most interesting manifestations--but her ladyship
waved him peremptorily into silence.

He drew back, washing his hands in the air, an expression of polite
concern upon his face. "Is there aught else I can do to be of service to
your ladyship?" he inquired, solicitous.

"What else?" she asked, with a fuller return to her old self. "Ye've
killed him. What more is there you can do?"

"Oh, madam--nay, madam! I am most deeply grieved that my--my--"