"It is Joseph, and he is drunk," said Letty. "What shall we do?"
"He seems in a good-natured mood for once," said John, going towards the stairs, where Prince had already met his master and was trying to keep him from going up; but he made his way somehow to the side of the bed, where the body lay.
The moment the wretched man entered the apartment, he seemed to have a dim idea that all was not right.
"Is she sick? Is she dead?" he asked, in an awe-struck whisper. "You don't mean to say she is dead and I not here?"
"She died only a few hours since," replied John. "We telegraphed for you several times, but could hear nothing of you. She was very anxious to see you once more, and wrote you a long letter. She died happily, Joseph,—the death of a true child of God, repenting of her sins and trusting in her Saviour."
"She had nothing to repent of," said Joseph, fiercely. "She was as good a wife and as good a woman as ever lived. They told me stories about her, and I was fool enough to believe some of them. I was cruel to her! I abused her! Oh, Aggy, Aggy! Only once come back, and see how happy we will be!"
"She is happy where she is," said Letty. "She has suffered very much for some time past; but her death was without a struggle. She will never know pain or sorrow again."
"Oh, if I had only been here!" he exclaimed, with violent sobs. "If I could only have told her how sorry I am! I ill-treated her in every way. The very day I went away, I was cruel to her; and now she is gone, and I shall never see her again!"
John persuaded him to go to his own room; and after a while he got him to bed, promising to stay all night in the house.
The next day John found Joseph altogether sober and rational; but though perfectly friendly with his wife's relations, and apparently pleased to have them in his house, he was not disposed to talk. He asked some questions about his wife's illness, and expressed his gratitude to Letty for her care, saying it was more than he had a right to expect; but he was very silent, for the most part.