“Cousin Robert,” said Lewis, with an air of grave courtesy, “although our grief is so fresh that all other thoughts seem intrusive, yet there are certain things that must be thought of. It is right and proper that you should participate with me in paying the last offices of respect and affection to our lamented relative. You were nearer to him than I. It is fitting that, from you, should proceed the orders relative to the funeral.”
“It is a right which I have no disposition to exercise. I would much rather leave it entirely in your hands. My mind is not in a fit state to enter upon such arrangements.”
“You have stated my own case,” said Lewis, in a voice of well-counterfeited emotion. “The death of my dear uncle, for whom I cherished so deep an affection, and to whom I am indebted for so many acts of kindness, weighs most heavily upon my heart. Nothing but an imperative sense of duty would enable me to bear up under it. But I will, if you desire it, so far overcome my grief, as to give the necessary directions.”
“I shall be glad to have you do so,” said Robert, briefly. There had been a time when he would not have questioned his cousin’s sincerity, but gratefully accepted his proffered sympathy,—when his own heart would have been soothed by this companionship in grief. But the revelation of his cousin’s perfidy had been too recent,—the memory of his wrongs was too fresh. He might, in time, forgive, but he could not at once forget. He did not look towards his cousin, but his eyes were fixed continually upon the father from whom he had been separated for eighteen years,—from whom the grave must soon separate him, till he too lay as still and motionless as his father now lay, outstretched before him.
Lewis was about to leave the room, when he paused, as if struck by a sudden thought.
“Pardon me,” he said, hesitatingly, “but this unhappy separation has left us so much in ignorance of each other, that I am not informed whether you have children.”
“I have one daughter.”
“And your wife?”
“Is no longer living.”
“Will you leave me your direction, that I may send a carriage?”