‘Yes,’ said Robert.
She needed not to ask the extent of the calamity. She stood looking in his face, while, the beginning once made, he spoke in low, quick accents. ‘Paralysis. Last night. He was insensible when Edwards called him this morning. Nothing could be done. It was over by three this afternoon.’
‘Where?’ asked Phœbe, understanding, but not yet feeling.
‘At his rooms at the office. He had spent the evening there alone. It was not known till eight this morning. I was there instantly, Mervyn and Bevil soon after, but he knew none of us. Mervyn thought I had better come here. Oh, Phœbe, my mother!’
‘I will see if she have heard anything,’ said Phœbe, moving quietly off, as though one in a dream, able to act, move, and decide, though not to think.
She found the household in commotion. Robert had spoken to the butler, and everywhere were knots of whisperers. Miss Fennimore met Phœbe with her eyes full of tears, tears as yet far from those of Phœbe herself. ‘Your mother has heard nothing,’ she said; ‘I ascertained that from Boodle, who only left her dressing-room since your brother’s arrival. You had better let her have her night’s rest.’
Robert, who had followed Phœbe, hailed this as a reprieve, and thanked Miss Fennimore, adding the few particulars he had told his sister. ‘I hope the girls are asleep,’ he said.
‘Sound asleep, I trust,’ said Miss Fennimore. ‘I will take care of them,’ and laying her hand on Phœbe’s shoulder, she suggested to her that her brother had probably not eaten all
day, then left them to return to the library together. There had been more time for Robert to look the thought in the face than his sister. He was no longer freshly stunned. He really needed food, and ate in silence, while she mechanically waited on him. At last he looked up, saying, ‘I am thankful. A few months ago, how could I have borne it?’
‘I have been sure he understood you better of late,’ said Phœbe.