'I suppose we shall have to tell him,' said the former. 'Probably he has no means of hearing.'
'I suppose we must. He has been anxious at not receiving letters he expected.'
'How do you know?'
'I had a talk with him last night.'
'Ah, so I thought. The deuce take it! Of course he'll pack off on the moment. What on earth can have induced the man to poison himself?'
Such a proceeding was so at variance with Mr. Athel's views of life that it made him seriously uncomfortable. It suggested criminality, or at least lunacy, both such very unpleasant things to be even remotely connected with. Poverty he could pardon, but suicide was really disreputable. From the philosophic resignation to which he had attained, he fell back into petulance, always easier to him than grave protest.
'The deuce take it!' he repeated.
Mrs. Rossall pointed to the words reporting Emily's condition at the time of writing.
'That was more than two days ago,' she said meaningly.
'H'm!' went her brother.