"To be sure, my dear friend," said Mrs. Bladen, kissing her, "you have had a very severe loss—very severe, indeed. It is really quite irreparable; and I can sincerely sympathize in your feelings. Certainly everybody ought to feel on these occasions; but you know it is impossible to devote every moment between this and the funeral to tears and sobs. One cannot be crying all the time—nobody ever does. And, as to the mourning, that is of course indispensable, and a thing that must be."
Mrs. Allerton wept bitterly. "Indeed, indeed!" said she, "I cannot discuss it now."
"And if it is not settled to-night," resumed Mrs. Bladen, "there will be hardly time to-morrow to talk it over, and get the things, and send to the mantua-maker's and milliner's. You had better get it off your mind at once. Suppose you leave it entirely to me. I attended to all the mourning for the Liscoms, and the Weldons, and the Nortons. It is a business I am quite used to. I pique myself on being rather clever at it."
"I will, then, trust to your judgment," replied Mrs. Allerton, anxious to get rid of the subject, and of the light frivolous prattle of her soi-disant dear friend. "Be kind enough to undertake it, and procure for us whatever you think suitable—only let it not be too expensive."
"As to that," answered Mrs. Bladen, "crape is crape, and bombazine is bombazine; and as everybody likes to have these articles of good quality, nothing otherwise is now imported for mourning. With regard to Frederick's black suit, Mr. Watson will send to take his measure, and there will be no further difficulty about it. Let me see—there must be bombazine for five dresses: that is, for yourself, three daughters, and Miss Allerton."
"Not for me," said Constance, taking her handkerchief from her eyes. "I shall not get a bombazine."
"My dear creature!" cried Mrs. Bladen; "not get a bombazine! You astonish me! What else can you possibly have? Black gingham or black chintz is only fit for wrappers; and black silk is no mourning at all."
"I shall wear no mourning," replied Constance, with a deep sigh.
"Not wear mourning!" ejaculated Mrs. Bladen. "What, no mourning at all! Not wear mourning for your own brother! Now you do indeed surprise me."
Mrs. Allerton and her daughters were also surprised; and they withdrew their handkerchiefs from their eyes, and gazed on Constance, as if scarcely believing that they had understood her rightly.