‘How long has he been dead?’
‘These ten years. He was drowned in a lake storm in Switzerland—people clung to him, and he could not swim. It was John’s one great grief—he cannot mention him even now. And really,’ she added, smiling, ‘I do believe he has brought himself to fancy it was a very happy marriage. She has always been very civil; but she has been chiefly abroad, and never would take his advice about sending her boy to school.’
‘What becomes of him now?’
‘He is our charge. She was on the way home from Italy, when she was taken ill at Paris, and died at the end of the week.’
‘How old is he?’
‘About nineteen, I fancy. He must have had an odd sort of education; but if he is a nice lad, it will be a great pleasure to John to have something young about the house.’
‘I was thinking that Mr. Dusautoy hardly wanted more cares.’
‘So have I,’ said her friend, smiling, ‘and I have been laying a plot against him. You see, he is as strong as a lion, and never yet was too tired to sleep; but it is rather a tempting of Providence to keep 3589 people and fourteen services in a week resting upon one man!’
‘Exactly what his churchwarden has preached to him.’
‘Moreover, he cannot be in two places at once, let alone half-a-dozen. Now, my Lancashire people have written in quest of a title for holy orders for a young man who has just gone through Cambridge with great credit, and it strikes me that he might at once help John, and cram Master Algernon.’