George sighed deeply. All these trifles connected with his brother's last day on earth were so intensely painful. Never, as he fully believed, should he look at the glittering ring, now on his finger, without recalling Anthony to memory. Charlotte sat down and burst into renewed tears.
"Where is Ethel?" he asked.
"She was in the schoolroom just now, crying. Ah, George, she feels Mr. Harry's death very much: she liked him as a brother."
George proceeded to the schoolroom. As he was entering, Flora darted out, her eyes swollen, her cheeks enflamed. She, too, had loved her half-brother, for all her careless ways and his restraining hand. George would have detained her to speak a kind word, but she suddenly dipped her head and flew past, under his arm.
Ethel was not crying now. She stood by the fire, leaning her pretty head against the mantelpiece. Her back was towards the door, and she was not aware that it was George who entered.
"My darling, I fear this is a sad trial to you," he said, advancing.
His voice brought to her a start of surprise; his words caused the tears to flow again. George drew her to him, and she sobbed on his breast.
"You don't know what it is," she said quite hysterically. "I used to be at times cross and angry with him. And now I find there was no cause for it, that he was married all the while. Oh if I had but known!--he should never have heard from me an unkind word."
"Be assured of one thing, Ethel--that he appreciated your words at their proper due only, and laughed at them in his heart. He knew you loved him as a brother: and I am sure he was truly attached to you."
"Yes, I do know all that. But--I wish I had been always kind to him," she added, as she drew away and stood as before.