“I scarcely expected you would have honoured us so far. This is entirely a family meeting.”
“Shall I leave?”
“Oh, no,” cried everybody at once, “Anne is so thoroughly one of the family.”
“Certainly,” responded Major Harper, bowing though his brows were knit. He waited till Anne took her seat, and then sat down, silent. Many changes, vivid, and various, passed over his flexible mouth. At last, leaning forward, he hid it with his hand. There was a brief hush in the men, of solemnity—in the women, of mourning. More than one tear splashed on the black dress of the tender-hearted Mary.
Nathanael stood—the will in his hand—hesitating.
“It seems to me, that as this is a family meeting, we might—not necessarily, but still out of kindness and respect—postpone it for a few days, that the only remaining member of the family may be present.”
“Who is that?” said the elder brother.
“Uncle Brian.”
One or two voices, especially the Dugdales, seconded this, and eagerly proposed to wait for Uncle Brian.
“Impossible!” Major Harper said, hastily. “I have engagements. I cannot wait for any one.”