A very unpleasant conviction accompanied the light which his understanding received by Nest’s plain speaking. He colored, sat down, and was silent for some minutes.
“How long has he been ill?” said he, at last.
“Ever since Wednesday evening, when he caught cold; but here is Hilary.”
Mr. Ufford rose, feeling singularly uncomfortable and embarrassed.
“I can not tell you how shocked I have been, Mrs. Hepburn, to hear of Mr. Duncan’s sudden illness,” said he; “I had no idea of it!”
“Did you not receive a message from me? we sent yesterday to beg you would come as soon as you could, as my father asked for you several times.”
“I am but just returned from the Abbey!”
Hilary was silent and grave. Her looks were more of a reproach than any words she could have uttered; they spoke so plainly of grief, anxiety, and patience. He felt obliged to say something in excuse or apology; and with ever-increasing embarrassment, he said:
“I am so sorry it should have happened; but I quite forgot the notice, and all about the funeral—it was most unfortunate!”
Still Mrs. Hepburn was silent.