Aunt Miriam's grave step was heard coming out of the room at last, it did not sound cheerfully in Fleda's ears. She came in, and stopping to give some direction to Cynthy, walked up to Fleda. Her face encouraged no questions. She took the child's head tenderly in both her hands, and told her gently, but it was in vain that she tried to make her voice quite as usual, that she had better go to bed that she would be sick.
Fleda looked up anxiously in her face.
"How is he?"
But her next word was the wailing cry of sorrow, "Oh grandpa!"
The old lady took the little child in her arms, and they both sat there by the fire until the morning dawned.
CHAPTER VIII.
Patience and sorrow strove
Who should express her goodliest.
KING LEAR.
When Mr. Carleton knocked at the front door the next day, about two o'clock, it was opened to him by Cynthy. He asked for his late host.
"Mr. Ringgan is dead."
"Dead!" exclaimed the young man, much shocked; "when how?"