“We have met with a great misfortune, Helen,” said Mr. Ford, gravely.
“A great misfortune! Has your invention then failed?”
“It is not that, Helen. Did you ever hear me speak of your grandfather?”
“No.”
“I will tell you the reason now. There had been a long and unhappy alienation between us,—longer, I have since found, than there need to have been, if we could only have met and had a mutual understanding. I married against my father’s wishes. If he had once seen your mother, Helen, he would, I am sure, have withdrawn all his opposition. As it was, we separated eighteen years ago, and to-day we met for the last time.”
“But the misfortune, papa?”
“We met at his death-bed, Helen; but, thank Heaven, not too late for a full reconciliation. An hour since, your grandfather died, with his hand clasped in mine. The funeral takes place day after to-morrow. We must procure fitting dresses. I do not understand such things, but you can consult with Martha.”
Helen wished to learn more of her grandfather, of whom she now, for the first time, heard; but she saw and respected her father’s grief, and forebore to question him.
CHAPTER XXXI.
READING THE WILL.
Although the funeral of Mr. Rand was not largely attended,—for his seclusion had prevented his making many acquaintances in the city,—no expense was spared upon it. Lewis was determined that, so far as money went, every respect should be paid to his uncle’s memory. Perhaps he thought in this way to atone for the grievous wrong which he had done him. To his cousin and Helen he was sedulously polite and even deferential, so that those who could look no deeper than the surface might well suppose him to be all that a kind and affectionate relation ought to be.