“Call the rest. It’s near now.”
And they came one by one softly into the room. An old hound, a great favorite of his, slipped in too, slunk up to the bed, and wagged his tail at the master he had missed for days.
“Hallo, Diamond, come to say good-bye to me?”
And the hound, thus encouraged, licked his master’s hand.
“Have you forgotten the old days, Diamond? They are over for me as well as for you now, my old beauty!” Then, gathering a remnant of strength, he gave a ringing “View-halloo!”
The hound bounded away in great excitement among the silent figures in the room, then came back, and once more licked his master’s hand. But he got no answering caress, for the hand was still forever.
The days which followed between Sir George’s death and the funeral were an awkward time for Harry and his eldest brother. The younger purposely held aloof, and avoided any private conversation with the present head of the family. Only once did George catch him alone, and instantly took advantage of the opportunity.
“Don’t go,” said he, laying his hand on the arm of his brother, who was going to leave the stable as he entered it. “I have been waiting for a chance to speak to you. Our father left your future in my hands, you know,” he added, in a tone which, if he chose, the other might take as a warning.
“Well, what is it?” asked Harry, impatiently.
“Don’t be so fidgety. It is nothing unpleasant. I only want to know if you can tell me where to find the Mainwarings’ late governess, Miss Lane?”