“Read those, and judge for yourself.”
Kenelm perused the letters. One was from the leader of the expedition, another from the doctor who had attended him, another from one of the friends who traveled with him, and they all contained the same horrible news. Sir Ronald, who for some time past had seemed much better in health and spirits, had been seized with a malignant fever and died suddenly, almost before there had been time to apply any remedies.
As Kenelm read there came to him a vision of the bright-eyed, eager boy whom he had loved so dearly—friend and brother—great tears rose to his eyes, a sob to his lips.
“I knew you would feel it,” said Lord Lorriston. “You loved him; so did I. Kenelm, how are we to break this to Lady Hermione? You see what Dr. Lawson says; the letters have been sent to me, but if the shock should prove fatal to Lady Alden, how shall we tell her?”
“How shall I tell him?” thought Mr. Eyrle. “Heaven knows it was bad enough before; this only makes it worse.”
“I want you to come out with me to Aldenmere, Kenelm,” continued the earl, “and help me to tell Lady Hermione—I—I fear it will kill her.”
Mr. Eyrle looked compassionately at the man over whose head hung so terrible a secret.
“I was there yesterday,” he said. “I will go with the utmost pleasure.”
“Lady Lorriston would have been the most proper person to go, but unfortunately I told her quite suddenly, and she is ill with the shock. We all loved poor Ronald very dearly.”
“I will go at once,” said Mr. Eyrle, shuddering as he thought of what else that loving, anxious mother might have to suffer.