“Sir Francis has died in good time, and with good taste. I had not given him credit for so much consideration.”
“Yes, madame,” replied Fillmore, bowing. “He has solved many difficulties. Possibly it was only the struggle against misfortune that kept him in life so long. The death of his son was his death-blow. His ruin was a relief to him.”
“Fortune and misfortune are in our feeling, not in our circumstances: that is an old story,” observed Perdita. “Well, did he die repentant?”
“He was unconscious for several hours before his death, and I was not present when his last words were spoken.”
“ ’Tis a pity he should have been alone. He might have said something worth hearing. A good many secrets have died with him.”
“He was not alone, madame.”
“Mrs. Lancaster.”
Perdita was dumb for a moment. “Did you say Mrs. Philip Lancaster?” she then asked, bending forward curiously.
Fillmore bowed in assent.