‘This is a sad business,’ began Danevitch, after some preliminary remarks.
‘Very sad,’ she answered. ‘It has cost my brother his life.’
‘He evidently felt it very keenly,’ said Danevitch.
‘A man must feel a thing keenly to commit suicide, unless he is a weak-brained fool, incapable of any endurance,’ she replied with a warmth that amounted almost to fierceness. After a pause, she added: ‘My brother was far from being a fool. He was a strong man—a clever man.’
‘So I understand. Did he make any observation to you before he committed the rash act?’
‘No.’
‘Yes, he did, Anna,’ cried out Lydia from the couch on which she was lying, wrapped in rugs.
Anna turned upon her angrily, and exclaimed:
‘How do you know? Hold your tongue. He made no observation, I say.’
Lydia was evidently annoyed at being spoken to in such a manner, and she replied with spirit, as she raised herself on her elbow: