"How is he this morning?"
"We were speaking of you, sir," replied Mr. Forth: "saying that you, as Mr. Dalrymple's chief friend, would be the best to break the news to the Grange. There is no hope."
"No hope of his life?"
"None. A day or two must terminate it."
Mr. Cleveland was inexpressibly shocked. He could not at first speak. "This is very sudden, gentlemen."
"Not particularly so. At least, not to us. We have done all in our power, but it has mastered us. Will you break it to him?"
"Yes," he answered, quitting them. "It is a hard task; but some one must do it." And he went straight to Mr. Dalrymple.
In the evening, Robert, who had been away all day on some matter of business, returned. As he went to his father's room to report what he had done, his mother came out of it. She had her handkerchief to her face: Robert supposed she was afraid of draughts. He approached the bed.
Mr. Dalrymple, looking flushed and restless, took Robert's hand and held it in his. "Have they told you the news, my boy?"
"No," answered Robert, never suspecting the true meaning of the words. "Is there any?"