"Let the past go. You're too wise a man to harbour unkind thoughts against headstrong youth. Let 'em be happy while they can. They'll have their troubles presently, like the rest of us."
"They'll have what they're brewing, no doubt. Empty, heartless wretches—I will say it, feel as you may for Cora."
"I hope you'll live to see her better part. She's a sensible woman and a loving one, for all you think not. At any rate, you'll come and see them married, Humphrey?"
"You can ask me such a thing?"
"Let bygones be bygones."
"What was it you wanted to speak to me about?"
"Just that—the wedding. I must make it a personal matter. I attach a good deal of importance to it. I'm very interested in the Linterns—wrapped up in them wouldn't be too strong a word for it. I'll confess to you that the mother is a good deal to me—my best friend in this world. I owe a lot of my happiness to her. She's made my life less lonely and often said the word in season. You know what a wise woman can be: you was married yourself."
Humphrey did not answer and his brother spoke again.
"There's only us two left now—you and me. You might pleasure me in this matter and come. Somehow it's grown to be a feeling with me that your absence will mar all."
"Stuff! I've been the death's-head at too many feasts in our family. In a word, I won't do it. I won't be there. I don't approve of either of 'em, and I've not interest enough in 'em now to take me across the road to see them."