ed Mr. Somers to
make his excuse at a Relief Committee which it would have been his
business to attend. A great portion of the day he spent with his
father, who lay all but motionless, in a state that was apparently
half comatose. During all those long hours very little was said
between them about this tragedy of their family. Why should more be
said now; now that the worst had befallen them--all that worst, to
hide which Sir Thomas had endured such superhuman agony? And then
four or five times during the day he went to his mother, but with her
he did not stay long. To her he could hardly speak upon any subject,
for to her as yet the story had not been told.

And she, when he thus came to her from time to time, with a soft word
or two, or a softer kiss, would ask him no question. She knew that
he had learned the whole, and knew also from the solemn cloud on his
brow that that whole must be very dreadful. Indeed we may surmise
that her woman's heart had by this time guessed somewhat of the
truth. But she would inquire of no one. Jones, she was sure, knew
it all; but she did not ask a single question of her servant. It
would be told to her when it was fitting. Why should she move in the
matter?

Whenever Herbert entered her room she tried to receive him with
something of a smile. It was clear enough that she was always glad of
his coming, and that she made some little show of welcoming him. A
book was always put away, very softly and by the slightest motion;
but Herbert well knew what that book was, and whence his mother
sought that strength which enabled her to live through such an ordeal
as this.

And his sisters were to be seen, moving slowly about the house like
the very ghosts of their former selves. Their voices were hardly
heard; no ring of customary laughter ever came from the room in which
they sat; when they passed their brother in the house they hardly
dared to whisper to him. As to sitting down at table now with Mr.
Prendergast, that effort was wholly abandoned; they kept themselves
even from the sound of his footsteps.

Aunt Letty perhaps spoke more than the others, but what could she
speak to the purpose? "Herbert," she once said, as she caught him
close by the door of the library and almost pulled him into the
room--"Herbert, I charge you to tell me what all this is!"

"I can tell you nothing, dear aunt, nothing;--nothing as yet."

"But, Herbert, tell me this; is it about my sister?" For very many