'I've come to tell you,' he said, 'that I've made arrangements to go down to Cressland to-morrow morning. Dr. Clinton and Mr. FitzHoward have been good enough to promise that they will come too, so--as they will be present on your behalf--it will be quite unnecessary for you to accompany us.'
'Do you mean that--you're going to have the coffin opened?' He bowed. 'Then I'll come--of course, I'll come. I could not stay away.'
He tried to persuade me to change my mind and say I wouldn't go.
'It is not a pleasant spectacle which we expect to see. You must forgive my reminding you that your husband has been buried a fortnight.'
'My husband? My husband's not in that coffin. I'm sure of it.'
'How can you be sure of it?'
'Because he's alive: I know that he's alive. Do you--do you think I'd be talking to you like this if I didn't know? I was afraid at first, but now I know that my James is alive. He keeps talking to me all the time.'
He looked puzzled; exchanging glances with Mr. FitzHoward.
'My dear lady, I beg that you will not be too sanguine. I admit that complications have arisen which I had not foreseen, but I am still convinced that my brother was your husband, and that he lies buried at Cressland. Don't raise any airy fabrics of hope, or the disappointment may be greater than you will be able to bear. Besides, if you are right, then your husband was not my brother, and you are no relation of mine--which is absurd.'
'Not so absurd as that I should be a relation of yours--the likes of me!'